Stuck
by InspiringLight
Summary: Forced into giving up the crew he had pridefully built from scratch, Ace struggles to accept a place in Whitebeard's crew. Brothers? Sisters? A father? It tears him apart slowly at how the Whitebeard "family" appears to be. It's everything he wants and everything he doesn't.
1. Aboard the Moby Dick

**Hey guys,**

**I've been watching One Piece and honestly it is so AMAZING. I was especially ecstatic when I discovered Luffy has a brother until...well, until the Marineford Arc. Goodness. My heart just broke.**

**This fic will just be a series of chapters documenting Ace's journey from the time before he accepted being part of the Whitebeard Pirates. In the meantime, I do not claim to be a good writer. I haven't written anything in ages but I enjoy writing. So for those who do enjoy my writing, great! Win-win situation. I enjoy writing. You enjoy reading.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or any of its characters.**

* * *

He was pretty sure his life was just fucked up.

How else was he stuck on this huge ship – a _pirate_ ship – with no other option but to the join the crew of Edward _bloody_ Newgate? Also known as the world's strongest man.

Portgas D. Ace should have known something like this would happen. Everything had been going a little too smoothly. He had left Dawn Island with a smile duly in place, had gathered a notable crew of pirates (he still smiles with that tinge of sadness as he remembers the first time he was called _Captain_) and was creating quite the name for himself and his crew.

The Spade Pirates.

He sighed.

..they were doing so well.

Ace tugged at his hair half-heartedly. Of course it would end. Nobody with his kind of luck – except maybe Luffy, he silently mused – would be in his situation. Back against the cabin door, hands clapped over his ears, eyes tightly shut and _hopinghopinghoping_ no one will force the door open to see him like this.

It hurt everywhere. Part of his aching head was capped with blood while dark scratches and open wounds marked his torso in ugly designs. His back seemed to screech in protest whenever he shifted, and just when did he injure his right ankle? In short, he looked like crap. All this courtesy of his admittedly stubborn desire to take down the man who wanted to take him in as his son.

The fire-user grimaced disgustedly at the thought. _Of all things…_

On this ship, he had no freedom. His crew was taken and, as Captain, he could not take off and leave them behind. Any Whitebeard crewmember could walk into this room they had _graciously_ – he sneered – given him and who was he to deny them that right when he was nothing but a prisoner? No matter how strong Ace thought he was, everyone needed to sleep. He was vulnerable.

The room itself was sparse. There was a bed which looked comfy enough, with a rickety desk and matching chair across the room. Next to the bed was a none-too-small window that gave to the peaceful view of the sea. Not too fine an escape route, however. The ship's residents probably knew he would just fall into the water and drown if he tried.

"Ace?" A knock on the door.

The person in question gritted his teeth as the slight shudders of the door jostled his back. He quickly recognised the first division commander, Marco.

Marco knocked again and called his name quietly. A pause. "I'm coming in."

Ace jumped a good distance away just as the door was thrown open, barely hanging on its hinges as the commander raised an eyebrow at Ace's defensive stance across from him.

"You should go to the infirmary. You look like you're going to drop," he commented idly.

The raven-haired teen almost snarled. "And wouldn't that be pity."

Marco sighed. The former Spades Captain was a good kid, but it has been over a month and even he was tiring of the younger's antics. "Just go to the damn infirmary."

"I don't need your pity!"

"This isn't pity, you idiot. We don't actually want you to die."

"Of course not. You want me to join your bloody crew and be the good little follower."

The commander reminded, "_You_ attacked Pops. No one asked you to."

Ace shouted, "He _kidnapped_ me! _And_ my crew! Am I supposed to sit still and wag my tail or something?"

Somehow, Marco found that amusing. "Then that's too bad. As the super rookie, you should know how pirates work. Did you think we were saints?"

"We know that!"

"So give it up, Ace. You know how this will end."

Ace clenched his teeth, piercing an ice cold glare at the other fire-user. "When I stop," he said slowly, "it'll be when your precious _Pops_ is _dead_."

Marco's features suddenly twisted into an ugly snarl, surprising Ace. He leaped across the room and crashed into the injured teen. He pinned Ace to the floor, a hand gripping the latter's neck tightly. "Don't you dare say that about Pops! I don't know what he sees in you, but that's the only thing keeping you alive!"

Recovering quickly, Ace snarled, "_Then kill me and be done with it!_"

The commander stiffened. His eyes met the raven-haired teen's and he silently wondered why he was surprised to see the burning hatred and frustration in his eyes. He distantly heard the sound of running footsteps. "You-"

"Hey, what's going on?" came a familiar voice.

Marco drew back, eyes trained on Ace who followed his every move. He stood up. "It was…It was nothing, Thatch," he said in a strained voice. "Nothing to worry about."

Thatch flicked his gaze between the two fire-users. He said to his crewmate, "You were going to bring him to the infirmary."

Marco shrugged. "He didn't want to."

Thatch hummed in response. He gestured to the door, smiling when Marco eyed him questioningly. Sighing, the latter shot Ace a last look before leaving.

Thatch turned to Ace to look him over critically. "Hey, Ace. I know you don't like it, but it's not an option. You still haven't recovered from that stint with Jinbei. Your fights with Pops aren't exactly helping either. To be honest, you look like you'd just keel over and that's kind of pathetic for someone who wants to defeat our Pops."

Ace dusted himself off and leaned tiredly against the wall next to him. He rested his face in his hands, mumbling, "Just go away."

Thatch's lips thinned. "You're not doing anyone a favour by being stubborn." He raised his voice when Ace started on a retort. "Not your crewmates. Not yourself."

Silence. Thatch suppressed a sigh and knelt in front of the fire-user.

Before he could say a word, Ace spoke up, though muffled by his hands. "I… I know that. I understand that…but what do you expect me to do? There's nothing _else_ I can do."

Surprised at the admission, Thatch looked to touch Ace to offer what reassurance he could but thought the better of it. "You could join the family," he answered softly.

"I only have one family. And he's not on this ship."

"Not even the Spade Pirates?"

Ace stared at him in disbelief. "It's not the same," he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

The other pirate raised an eyebrow at that. "How is it different?"

Ace dropped his hands from his head with a sigh, eyeing the commander warily. "You can trust family with anything, but not with crewmates."

Thatch raised an eyebrow at that explanation. "But crewmates should trust each other. Just like family, right?"

The younger participant mulled over the question. "Yeah, but the world's not like that."

Intrigued, Thatch was about to ask what the former Spades captain meant when he noticed Ace's breathing getting heavier and his movements more sluggish. He narrowed his eyes. "Okay. That's enough. I'm going to get you a doctor." He made to get up but a hand caught his wrist. He looked back, surprised.

"I don't need one," Ace mumbled under his breath, mustering a rather ineffective glare at the older pirate.

Thatch only smiled slightly. "There's a doctor in your crew, right? I'm sure it's fine if we get him to take a look at you." He took Ace's stunned look as permission and, on impulse, ruffled the younger's hair, earning him a startled glare.

"I'll be right back." On second thought, he paused and looked over his shoulder. "Oh, and, sorry 'bout Marco. He had a rough day. Don't take it against him, yeah?"

Thatch walked out of the room, the smile still tugging at the corners of his lips. That one, he thought, was going to be a handful.

* * *

[2 hours later]

Thatch placed two full plates before Ace. "Eat up."

Ace tensed, glancing between the pirate and the food. "Not hungry," he mumbled.

Thatch blinked, amused. "Really? When was the last time you ate? I sure as hell didn't see you during dinner, or lunch. Or breakfast. Should I even talk about yesterday?"

Ace rolled his eyes. He cracked his neck, hoping to ease the stiff muscles. Hungry though he was (if the constant rumbles were any indication), the thought of being fed by his enemies on their ship was humiliating. His stomach growled. …he was so very hungry though.

Thatch barely withheld a smile. He pushed the plates nearer. "Come on. It'll make your crewmates feel better." Ace looked up at him, questioning. "Didn't you know? They've been asking after you for weeks."

The fire-user coloured. Thatch watched, highly amused, as the younger pirate lowered his eyes and reached for the spoon, his movements slow and hesitant. Yeap, he was right. This kid was a piece of work.

It was not just him. Everyone was sure there was something truly wrong with this kid. Sure, he was strong and super smart to boot (though with his record number of attacks on Pops, Thatch was seriously beginning to question his intellect). The kid managed to gather a crew who shared the fierce loyalty towards their captain as he did with them, made a name for himself and he will be damned if someone in the world had not heard of the Spade Pirates.

With Ace's limited experience as a pirate, the kid was fantastic. All his brothers and sisters knew Ace would be a fine addition to the crew, but Thatch supposed getting kidnapped into the idea was not exactly the best way to recruit the fire-user. _Not that any other way would have worked_, he mused.

The teenager refused to join the crew, refused food, refused to stop attacking their captain, refused medical treatment, refused to sleep as much as possible, refused to interact with anyone beyond the clear message that he wanted them dead, and refused to even _look_ at his own crewmates' eyes when the Whitebeard pirates tried to get him to talk to someone. Hell, the only reason Ace stayed in the room they provided was the threat that they would throw his crewmates off board if he fell into the water again because clearly leaning against the railing was the best place and way to sleep in a ship as large as the Moby Dick.

Once one of the plates was cleared, Thatch decided to speak up. "How are you feeling?"

Ace's dark eyes shot up to Thatch's and he seemed to bite back a retort. "Fine," he answered curtly.

The corners of the older pirate's lips twitched. "Sure. But from personal experience, lack of sufficient food, sleep _and_ medical treatment when you're injured doesn't exactly feel like paradise." Thatch grinned at the dark look he received. "Just saying, buddy."

Ace growled. He forced himself to stop eating for a moment to glance at Thatch, the latter catching the look.

"What?"

Ace looked away. "It's nothing."

"No, it's not. You wanted to say something," Thatch encouraged. "Go on."

Ace shot him another brief glance, poking at the remains of his food. "Why are you here? I tried to kill your Captain time and again. I pissed your friend off and your crew off." The pirate paused, face impassive. "Being nice to me won't convince me to join your crew."

Thatch hummed. He reached over and picked a sausage of Ace's plate and popped it in his mouth, grinning when the younger scowled at the loss. "'Course we know that. But Pops wants you to be one of us" – at this, his eyes gleamed excitedly – "and we've been with him long enough to understand that he doesn't choose lightly. If he thinks you're good enough, it means you are. No questions asked."

Ace scoffed softly at the explanation. "So basically if he asks you to roll on the floor, you roll on the floor."

Thatch laughed, not offended in the least. "Well, if that's the way you put it. But, Ace, you were the captain of the Spades Pirates. You may think crewmates don't make a family but you should understand that loyalty binds a crew together. To each other but most importantly to their captain. Without that loyalty, there's no respect. No respect, and there's no crew." He leaned forward with his palms out as if trying to emphasise his words. "Pirates ultimately choose who to follow or who to lead. And all of us? We chose Whitebeard as our Pops, as he chose us as his sons and daughters. There's no turning back from that. He's the one we'll follow until we die."

At the ensuing silence, Thatch drew up a small smile. "And no brat's going to come and rain upon us a barrage of attacks that's going to scare us into doubting Pops."

Ace fixed Thatch with a long, contemplative stare, not backing down when the latter returned it lazily. "Really. You're disturbing my meal."

Thatch was about to point out that Ace was the one who brought up the topic when shock flashed across the younger's countenance. He sat up in concern. Was there something in the food? Was Ace allergic to something he brought in? Damn! The kid would never trust him again if he suffered some seizure or something when-

"What is this thing?"

Thatch froze in his silent panic when Ace drew up a piece of something melted…brown? Ace looked at it in awe.

"It tastes am- I mean, good. It tastes good," the fire-user mumbled, eyes wide.

Thatch slumped in shock.

"You…you don't know what chocolate is?"

* * *

**Feel free to leave some feedback or comments. If not, maybe next time! :)**


	2. Hate and Chocolate

**Hello,**

**First and foremost, thank you for the reviews. :) They made me so happy. It is strange, is it not? How a few words could make our insides tingle with such warmth and appreciation. **

**Besides that, this chapter is just a step to move up the plot and yes, I do like to focus on interaction. I found this chapter to be very...dull, however.**

**Then again, what makes a story interesting? What makes it worth coming back for? To flip the pages to find out what happens next? Is it the process of character development? The need to know an end? The ability to create mental visuals in another, painted by the words of an author?**

**No matter though, for my skills in writing leaves so much more to be desired at the moment. I do so love writing, though.**

* * *

The first time he woke up on the Moby Dick, Ace had felt a strange weirdness around him. The rocking of the ship felt right, as it does for any experienced sailor on the seas. The creak of the wooden boards was a humming to the ears, the sound of raucous laughter striking an all-too familiar chord in him, and a whiff of the weather-beaten wood reminding him of a sturdy, old ship that has sailed the seas for a long, long time.

His had heart ached then. Did his crewmates get away in time? He vaguely remembered thinking, as he stood before Whitebeard, that his Cook would have made a great Captain in his stead. No matter what, the Spades Pirates – his pride, blood, sweat and tears – would sail on. They would make pirates and marines alike tremble, cause the ground to shake; and how proud would his little brother be to know that _this_ was what his older brother had strove for. _This_ was the result of his strength and sacrifice. For even without their Captain, the Spades Pirates would be a force to reckon with. And maybe, someday, they would come for him and they would take on the Whitebeard pirates together once again.

Of course that hope had gone to hell when that Thatch person had cheerfully informed the fire-user how his crew had challenged them in a bid to retrieve their Captain. Either the five days of forgoing sleep had addled their minds or he really had the unlucky fate of attracting idiots to his side. Apparently one Monkey D. Luffy was not enough to squash that lot into blissful non-existence.

Ace spent the days keeping to himself. He barely spoke (the anger that riddled his blood at any unfortunate Whitebeard pirate who tried to interact with him surprised even him in its intensity and desire for blood) and busied himself with plan after plan to take down Whitebeard. His attempts were sorely lacking, and the pirate, admittedly, knew that he would never emerge the victor.

_I don't want to win like this._

He hated knowing his life was in their hands. He hated that he owed them anything. From the food he allows himself to indulge in to saving him when he somehow falls into the water to even resisting from landing him attacks when he is out cold in sleep.

He hated how hard they tried to make him belong.

"_How are you feeling?"_

"_Come join us for lunch!"_

"_Oh, come on. You don't mean that…"_

"_Hey! There's the new guy! C'mon, new guy! Let's toast to our future as crewmates!"_

He hated how they forgave him no matter the insults he threw at them.

"_Well, I guess it can't be helped."_

"…"

_Awkward laughter. "Maybe next time, yeah?"_

"_It'll be fun!"_

But most of all, Ace hated himself for falling so hard he could not stand. Wherever _he_ was, he knew he was not where he wanted to be. This room he woke up in did not belong to him. The laughter outside were not his crewmates'. And this ship? It was not his.

His was destroyed by Whitebeard, probably lying in pieces on the ocean floor, a far cry from the grand voyages Ace had hoped it would see.

* * *

"Hey."

Thatch looked up from his work brief enough to catch a glimpse of blond before returning his focus on his masterpiece. "Hey, Marco." He swiped a finger across the spoon and brought it to his lips. Humming in satisfaction, he left the counter and headed towards the sink to wash his hands.

Marco eyed the luscious swirls of melted brown…_something_ in the mixing bowl curiously. "Hmmm. That chocolate?" His hand, which had been reaching for it, was slapped away. He looked up at his friend, touching his heart in mock hurt.

Thatch rolled his eyes. "That's not for you."

Marco quirked an eyebrow at the chocolate substance that would overflow if only another spoonful was added. "Really."

"Yeap, really." Thatch nodded, continuing to hum under his breath. He pulled the mixture out of the fire-user's reach, smirking at the glare the action elicited.

"So what's the occasion? You seem to be in a pretty good mood…" Marco trailed off at the other pirate's too-happy expression. "You're in a _very_ good mood," he corrected. "So either you're going spoil your love for chocolate until your teeth drop off or someone's going to have a very lucky day."

Thatch snorted. "Number one, I'm always in a good mood. You're the one who's all so serious and stuff," he said as he waved the whisk pointedly at his friend. "And two, this is for Ace."

"Ace," Marco repeated.

"Yeah, you know. That guy who you just almost killed a few hours ago because you pissed him off?"

Marco frowned. "Why? And what do you mean I almost killed him? I just…showed him a piece of my mind." He looked away, a light flush colouring his cheeks.

Thatch laughed. "Yeah, yeah." Deciding against completing the dessert now, he took a small glass, filling it with ice cold water. He offered it to Marco but a shake of the head had him holding the drink closer as he settled beside the pirate. He heaved himself onto the kitchen counter.

After a short silence, he spoke. "Did you know he's never tried chocolate before?" He could feel more than see the startled look on the fire-user's face.

Marco was quiet for a moment. "He told you that?" he finally asked.

Thatch laughed softly. "As if he would." Both of them shared a smirk at the thought of Ace admitting something like that to them. The stubborn teen would probably drown himself before he ever caught himself doing that. "You should have seen his face when he tried the chocolate I gave him few hours back. His eyes went so wide with shock and-and he just stared at it as if he's never seen it before. He even said it was amazing," Thatch exclaimed.

Marco looked surprised. "He did?"

Thatch scratched at his hair. "Well, he was going to but he caught himself in time. Still counts though."

"Right."

"Not kidding, my friend. He nearly choked and I swear I almost had a heart attack thinking I killed him by accident." Thatch placed a hand on his heart and shook his head pitifully.

"Pops would be so mad if you did."

Thatch shot him a sly look. "Ahuh. Just like he would have been had you actually killed the guy."

"What?" Marco drew back, eyes narrowed in disgust. A hint of something cold dropped in his stomach when he noticed Thatch was not completely joking. "What do you mean?

The fourth division commander's tone fell flat, a tinge of grim foreboding underlining his words. "He was in bad condition, Marco. Sleep deprivation, insufficient food _and _water intake. Injuries of over a month ago that hasn't healed, coupled with the newer ones from Pops. And you know our crewmates are starting to be irked by his actions on the ship."

Marco's fist tightened as a frown creased his forehead. He threw a glance at his surrogate brother. "Pops has been trying to lessen the blows of his attacks on Ace."

"Yeah. Then again, I'm sure he could see how everything's taking a toll on the kid."

A pause. "Think he'll stay?"

Shrugs. "I don't know, honestly. I hope he will, at least for survival's sake."

"If anything, he's persistent," Marco agreed.

"Yeah."

"…sorry."

"For what?"

"For almost ending his life, even if I didn't mean it."

"It's fine. Ace is tougher than that."

"Yeah?" Marco leaned his weight on his arms. He lowered his voice. "…so how's he doing? He alright?"

Thatch threw his friend a grateful smile. "Better than he was. Had one of his former crewmates patch him up a little." The smile dropped into a frown. "The kid didn't say a word throughout though. Just kept his head low and refused to answer even when the doc tried to prod him for how he's feeling now and then."

Marco shook his head in amazement.

Thatch laughed, agreeing. He then leaned sideways and bumped into the fire-user's shoulder excitedly. "But you know something, Marco?" he whispered almost animatedly. A gleam shone in his eyes. "I can't wait until he's one of us." The fourth division commander just smiled knowingly at Marco's questioning look. "I can feel it. He'll be the brother we'll never want to let go of."

* * *

A shallow cry echoed in the distance, alerting the residents of the Moby Dick of an incoming ship. Pirates scrambled to the deck, running past each other as each fought to see which next ship of pirates would come challenge their Captain.

"I see a Jolly Roger!"

Loud laughter. "Oh, I can't wait to see this!"

Someone called out, "Do you recognise the flag?"

Various responses yelling "No!" elicited a roar of excited chatter amongst the crew.

Whitebeard watched in amusement as his crew darted around the ship, shouting for everyone to head to the deck to watch the "show".

From the kitchens, Thatch poked his head into the hallway as his brothers ran by him.

"Hey!" he called to Namur as the fishman ran past. "What's going on?"

Namur turned to spare him a grin. "A ship's come to challenge Pops. You should go to the deck." He gestured upwards. "Finally something exciting to do."

Thatch chuckled. "Be on your way then. Marco and I'll be there shortly."

Namur nodded as he took off running again.

Thatch returned to the kitchen, explaining to Marco what the fuss was all about out. Curious himself to see which pirate wannabe wanted to challenge their old man, he quickly stored the almost-done chocolate in the fridge, careful to hide it from view from anyone who cared to look. Food raids occurred too much on the ship for him to be comfortable with. Honestly, the idiots could not just eat the mandatory meals and leave the chefs in peace other times of the day.

Both commanders goofed around as they made their way to the deck. Marco laughed at a joke his friend made, slapping him on the back when they met with a wall of their crewmates crowding in a huge circle from one end of their Pops to the other.

"Everyone must be bored to bits. I think almost everyone is on deck to watch this," Marco observed.

The challengers, who called themselves the Eight Spoons Pirates (Eight Spoons? Thatch mentally scratched his head at that) or something, filled the deck, notorious smirks stuck in place as if victory was well in their hands already. The Captain, a young lad in his early twenties with spiky blue hair, stepped forward.

"We," he shouted, pointing a finger at Whitebeard, "challenge you to a duel!"

_Ah, a showy one_, Thatch thought. Marco scoffed beside him. "These ones never last long."

True enough, the duel ended with one hit from Whitebeard, which sent the opposing Captain slamming into his crew.

Whitebeard stared them down, unamused. "Kids like you should wait decades more before you challenge me. Your arrogance ill becomes of you," he said with all the force of thunder. "Now get off my ship."

The Captain pulled himself to his feet and glowered at Whitebeard. "Don't look down on me, you old fool!" He raised his sword and pointed it to the sky. "Get them, men!"

His crew hesitated. One of them glanced at Whitebeard's narrowed gaze and shuddered. "Um, Captain, maybe we shou-"

The blue-haired Captain turned his glare at his subordinate. "Shut up!" He swung his weapon across his underling's chest and the latter fell, limp, as his blood soaked the deck. "I won't forgive any more insubordination from any of you!" he shouted at his petrified crew members. "Now ATTACK!"

"AYE!"

Thatch was not the only one who let out a wicked grin.

* * *

Screams pierced the air as bright raging flames engulfed the walkway at the east side of the Moby Dick. Where a certain fire-user was currently residing at.

Marco jumped back a step and frowned.

Thatch was beside him in an instant. "That Ace?"

The fire-user shrugged. He met the other commander's eyes. "Has to be. We're the only fire-users here."

"Huh. Why's he fighting?" The confusion marring Thatch's tone made it more a statement than a question.

Marco kept silent as he pondered on the same question. This was not Ace's battle. Unless the kid was thinking of using the battle as a diversion to escape or to strike at Pops when the time was opportune or maybe even-

"Let's go check it out, yeah?"

Marco glanced at his crewmate and nodded. "Be careful though. He may attack us too."

* * *

Ace looked up as two figures dropped by his sides. A vicious flame gleamed in his eyes as he twisted instantly, ready to unleash the hottest fire upon his attackers when a flash of brown met his eyes and he froze.

He straightened. "Thatch." He glanced at his other side, not surprised to see the first division commander staring at him warily. Ace frowned at that. "Marco."

Thatch relaxed at the acknowledgement, slinging his arm across Ace's back. "So you joined the battle, I see. Finally decided to join us?" he teased.

Ace scowled. "Maybe in my nightmares. No go away. These morons need a good beating before I'm appeased."

"You know them?" Marco piped up.

"No."

Thatch hesitated. "Then why the…uh, violence?"

Ace turned to fix the brunette with a cold, penetrating stare and two pirates almost shivered at the sheer _hunger_ in it. "Venting."

The two commanders shared a glance before eyeing the charred mess the Spoons or whatever they were called were in. They both broke into awkward laughter. No matter how much stronger they knew they were from Ace, that intensity right there was something they would rather not subject themselves to. "Right. Best we get out of your way then. Right, Marco?"

Marco nodded animatedly. "Yeah. You can handle this part of the ship just fine."

"Silly of us, worrying about you." Thatch continued to laugh nervously.

Something in Ace's expression changed then, a hint of confusion flashing across his sharp features. "What are you-" His gaze suddenly shifted to something behind the commanders and his eyes widened. He dashed off.

"What's wrong?" Marco asked as both Thatch and himself turned. One of men in a black top hat and in what looked like a black trench coat was coughing violently on his knees near the west end of the ship. It took both the Whitebeard Pirates a moment to recognise the man as one of the Spades Pirates. Another pirate entered their peripheral vision, a lance in hand, moving to strike the now vulnerable ex-Spades pirate. _Oh fuck._

"_Get away from him!_"

Marco and Thatch raced after Ace as the moody, stubborn, impossible teenager bounded across the deck.

The guy in the top hat looked up, panicked. "No, don't, Ace!" he cried out. "There's seastone embed-"

Ace leaped.

The tip of a bloodstained edge peeked out of roughened skin as sickening red pooled around said lance, dripping to the floor. Pale lips trembled, followed by the sound of liquid splattering against the ground.

_Shit._

"ACE!"

* * *

**Do leave a review or feedback if you please. :)**


	3. Defending What Remained

**Hello again!**

**First and foremost, thank you to all for the reviews, favourites and subscribers. Funny feeling started tingling in my tummy again whenever I see another one who apparently finds this fic worth reading.**

**To be honest, I really am not sure if I had Ace in character. He did not appear all too much in the show, and with the complete change from when he was ten to now, he's like a completely different person. What I do think, though, the transition couldn't have been easy for him. I personally could never have accepted being forced to disband my crew to join another because of defeat. And Ace is pretty stubborn like that.**

**Now, on to the chapter, and oh, I forgot the disclaimer in Chapter 2. Sorry! Do enjoy the read, if you would.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or any of its characters.**

* * *

Dark eyes widened as the lance slid out of the roughened skin. Blood splattered on the deck.

Ace let out a strangled scream. "_You vile piece of scum!"_

_No, no no no no-_- his crewmate, his _friend_, gagged and fell in a heap, limp.

Ace crashed into the assaulter, crimson rage pumping through his veins. He pulled back his arm and smashed it into the pirate's face. _"Have no one-_" Took a fistful of his hair and lit his hand aflame. "_-told you that-_" Slammed his head into the deck. "_-you do not-_" Grabbed his shoulders, drove his knee into his back and pulled. "_-attack a swordsman-_" Snarled. "_-from behind!_"

"I-I'm sorry!" The pirate quivered under the fire-user. "I w-was wrong!"

The former Captain curled his fingers into the pirate's shirt. A manic light gleamed in his eyes as he leaned in closer to whisper in his ears, voice cold and harsh. "Not the people I care about." Ace went up in flames.

Thatch and Marco pulled to a stop a little ways away, eyes wide. Other members of the crew had stopped by then, pausing to watch the one-sided battle as the fire-user channelled all his fury into turning the unfortunate pirate into pulp.

Thatch blinked. "He's really just throwing punches and kicks," he said in amazement.

Marco shot him a dirty look. "You don't say." He turned towards the direction of the watching crew. Pointing towards the injured pirate in the top hat, he shouted, "Someone get the doctor!" He narrowed his eyes at the lack of immediate response. He shifted his hand to wave in the direction of Ace's brutal attack. "Or I daresay you're next in line. Now move!"

"R-right!"

"Where's Rin?"

Someone shouted back. "In the infirmary! I'll go get her!"

"Okay, hurry!"

With that done, Marco flicked his gaze back towards the now aflame Portgas D. Ace and the screaming pirate in his hands. This was the man Pops wanted to take in. What brute strength. Yet, what caught his attention was the almost desperate, fearful look in Ace's eyes. If Marco had not known what to look for, he would never have seen it, but no one could fight with that much intensity without revealing some form of emotion. Thatch was right, the first division commander reflected silently. If the kid was anything, he was going to be a real handful to deal with.

He turned at approaching footsteps. A young lady of petite frame ran past, wisps of her brown locks waving madly as she dropped to the injured ex-Spades pirate.

Ace looked up at this.

A trill of alarm shot through Marco at the reaction and he moved to stand before the doctor. He vaguely noted Thatch peering curiously at the unconscious pirate, seeming oblivious to the threat that was the raven-haired teen. He cleared his throat. "Ace, it's not what you think. Rin's our-"

"It better be what I think." To Marco's surprise, Ace rolled his eyes. "Your doctor? I heard." He stood up, his gaze sliding to stare at the doctor as Rin shot out rapid-fire instructions to move the pirate. There was a flurry of movement as the Whitebeard crew around her scrambled to head her orders. Marco watched as Ace casually dropped the pirate he was frighteningly focused on moments before.

Thatch looked up at this, completely unfazed by the teen's abrupt change of demeanour. An assuring grin made its way to his features as he reached out and dragged Ace closer by his arm. "He'll be fine."

Ace was quiet for a while as his former subordinate was carried away. "…How do you know?"

Thatch squeezed the arm he was holding, the grin never wavering. "You've never seen Rin at work, have you?" – Marco almost laughed at this; almost no one on the Moby Dick has ever seen Rin at work since those who present usually were a second away from dying or…was dying – "She could patch you up perfectly even if you had a hole in your gut, face, neck and arm all at once!"

Marco grimaced at the image his mind happily conjured in his head. "Thatch, that was disgusting. And Ace, what he meant was that your friend will be fine."

Ace nodded grimly, his dark brooding eyes fixed somewhere on the floor before him. Thatch's smile dimmed at this, as he shared a concerned glance with Marco. "Let's go wait outside the infirmary, yeah?" Marco offered.

Thatch nodded enthusiastically. "Right. How 'bout it, Ace?"

If anything, the teen's mood only seemed to grow heavier. He exhaled noisily, his fists clenched by his side. His answer was harsh. "No."

"Why not?"

"What is it?"

Ace looked at them both then, disbelief clear in his sharp features. "Because…" he trailed off. He gestured around them. "The fight's not over."

The two Whitebeard commanders looked around them then. Realisation dawned.

"Oh."

…

"Right."

…

* * *

"…needs to remain on bedrest for at least three weeks. Plenty of water, controlled food portions and the medical care is all it takes to make right as rain. Now, Ace, if you-" Rin tugged at the fire-user's arm, instructing him to look at a few medicine bottles on the shelf beside him.

Marco and Thatch watched this, somewhat surprised, as the Whitebeard doctor informed in detail the specifics and purpose of each solution. As her name suggested, Rin was…cold. She was strict about how her patients were handled and was never quick to forgive anyone, patient or no, who interfered with the process of healing. However, she was the best doctor the Whitebeard crew could have asked for and had saved nearly all of them from certain death many a time. It was that trust in her skills and knowledge in the science of medicine that no one questioned her instructions. And so, both commanders could not help but feel grateful to their sister for taking the effort to explain to Ace so he may be more at ease.

"Thank goodness, huh," Thatch whispered beside him. Marco nodded.

It had been a close call. The ex-Spades pirate, a swordsman whose name was apparently Aki, had been stabbed right through his gut, barely missing his ribs. With the severity of the wound and blood loss, the pirate should have died. Then again, Marco mused, these people had made it into the Grand Line despite the small size of the crew. He had, admittedly, forgotten the fearful reputation of the Spades Pirates.

Glancing at Ace…well, their former Captain himself was already a handful, after all.

"Now, get inside," Rin was saying, tugging at Ace's arm. The teen looked at her, surprised.

"What?"

Rin only pulled harder. "You were in the battle, correct? The fight was brutal, or so I've heard. I need to take a look at you to make sure you're fine." Thatch clapped his hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter. Brutal, yes. But the one in dire need of emergency treatment certainly was not Ace.

Ace balked, digging his feet into the ground. He shook his head. "I'm perfectly fine."

"You don't know that!" Rin barked. She raised her chin authoritatively, her hands now on her hip.

"Oh, there it is! Doctor Rin!" Thatch snickered. Marco shot him an exasperated look and whispered back, "Shut it!" They both watched in amusement as the younger fire-user backed away with his hands in the air.

"It's my body! I should know if I'm fine," he defended.

The petite doctor narrowed her eyes dangerously. "_I'm_ the doctor here. I don't care what you have against this crew but it's _my_ job to treat anyone who comes to _my _door, no matter for what reason." She shoved a finger into Ace's personal space. "Now, _inside_!"

"But-"

"Now!"

Ace threw Thatch a pleading glance (to which Marco barely blinked; he already knew the fourth division commander was the kid's go-to guy) as he was marched inside the infirmary.

The door slammed shut.

Almost as an afterthought, Thatch called out helpfully, "I'll be right outside, Ace!"

Marco rolled his eyes. "Oh, the idiots I'm surrounded with," he muttered as he turned to check the damage on the ship.

* * *

The silence in the infirmary was stifling.

Ace did not know why he was so surprised but the utter _whiteness_ of the room irked him. Everything was plain white. The walls, the ceiling, the bedsheets, even the darn floor. The pirate could not help but wonder in disdain if the poorly chosen colour had something to do with Whitebeard.

That doctor, Rin, had declared him ill enough to stay in the sickbay. His former injuries from the hands of their Captain and even from Jinbei over a month before had annoyingly reopened, classifying him a patient under the doctor's care. Even then, he wondered why she seemed to check him over so carefully. He was only a…an enemy, after all. He would have left, but being mothered like that had felt so warm… Even though he had consumed the Mera Mera No Mi, even though he could control fire, although he _was_ fire, Ace had felt so cold for so long.

_Such weakness. _His fists clenched.

_And this is how you want to defeat Whitebeard?_

He closed his eyes. _Whitebeard, who is as strong as _him_?_

_And now you owe them even more for saving Aki's life, which _you_ should have defended._

"Captain?"

Ace snapped out of his reverie. He turned to see a pair of weary eyes looking at him. "Aki?" he murmured. His eyes widened as he hastened to his feet to stand by his comrade's bedside. "Aki! You're awake. No, don't! You'll just hurt yourself if you try to get up now." Ace gently pushed the swordsman back down.

Aki sighed, relaxing slightly into the mattress. He blinked at the fire-user. A sly smile crept across his features then. "Fi-" He coughed harshly but waved away Ace's concerns as he took in a shallow breath. When he continued, his voice was raspy and grating. "Finally talking to us, Captain?"

Ace flinched. "I…" he trailed off, guilt already clawing into him when he saw the fond look in his friend's eyes.

"Don't beat yourself up over it, Captain. I let down my guard. Was attacked." Aki only smiled wider. "You should be mad at me for that."

"Damn right I'm mad, you idiot!"

The swordsman tried to laugh but winced when a sharp twinge of pain shot through his torso. "And there's the Captain we all know and love."

Ace stilled then, slowly raising his eyes to meet the warm brown of the other pirate. The guilt only dug deeper, sinking its claws into his insides, and the fire-user trembled then, light shudders that shook his tense frame. If the D. carrier had looked up, he would have caught the tinge of regret in Aki's eyes.

Aki's voice was firm. "I'm sorry, but that's enough, Captain."

"Don't." A pause. "I'm not your Captain anymore, Aki."

"…Cap-"

Ace gritted his teeth. He shouted, "I said don't!" He seemed to remember where he was and lowered his voice. "All of you have always known …that I would never have defeated Whitebeard…that I still can't."

Black eyes widened, and Ace almost laughed at the surprise on Aki's features. "I hear you guys tell me night after night outside that ridiculous room they gave me," Ace continued, tone flat. "I see the notes you drop in my room, even in my pocket."

Ever since Ace's first attack on Whitebeard on the Moby Dick, his comrades had taken to dropping on him every night when it became apparent he was deliberately ignoring them. Whether it be in the form of hastily written notes or silent whispers outside his door, they never failed to appear. Always telling him the same thing again and again: _It's okay, Captain. It's okay now._

There was a momentary pause, before the fire-user spoke again softly. "But none of you are giving up, Aki. If you've given up, how could you still call me your Captain? I- Even though I failed, you still are" – there was a hitch in his voice – "_kind_ enough to call me Captain."

"It's not…" Aki murmured.

Ace went on, as if the silent plea had never been spoken. "I, who was your Captain, who personally recruited all of you as my crew, who held all your dreams and hopes and _goddamn_ _future_. Only to _fail_," Ace spat. Grim determination crept into his voice. "There's no other way around it, Aki. The only thing I can do is fight till the end." He turned away.

Aki moved to pull the fire-user back but froze at the latter's next words. "I'm not your Captain anymore. But I hope the lot of you will listen to me one last time… Please, don't get yourself killed."

"Captain…"

Ace climbed into the bed furthest from Aki's, his back facing the pirate. He draped the sheets over until just below his eyes as something cold and heavy settled in his stomach. Yes, there it was again. That coldness that coated his veins, his blood, which sent shivers down his back. He clutched the sheets closer.

_For what honour and pride remains of the Spades Pirates. These are the only things I can defend for all of you now._

Portgas D. Ace may be fire…

_I'm so sorry._

…but his nights on the Moby Dick were never warm.

* * *

His feet dangled over the figurehead of the Moby Dick as a soft breeze brushed through his tresses of dark hair. He hummed a quiet tune under his breath, his arms locked over his chest.

The Sun was just about to rise, the dew drops just about to fall, the light just about to break. Ace let out a soft sigh. This was peaceful, somehow. If he was not careful, the lapping of the waves would lull him to sleep, but not even the risk of falling into the water would move the fire-user from the spot.

"Nice morning, huh?"

Ace inclined his head to the side as Marco came to settle beside him. He grunted disinterestedly.

Marco chuckled. "Aren't you supposed to be in the infirmary?"

Ace responded with a shrug. "Hated the colour scheme," he finally answered.

Surprise crossed the older's face before he broke into a laugh. He grinned. "I bet you do. Everyone's been on Rin's nerves telling her to give it some colour, but her word is law when it comes to her stuff." He glanced at Ace. "So you feeling alright?"

"Yeah. Perfect."

"I'm glad your friend – Aki, was it? – is fine. Told you he'd be fine."

Marco did not miss the hesitance in the kid's voice when he answered. "Yeah. Thanks."

There was a momentary lapse as silence fell over them like a shroud. The wind picked up, a soft wail billowing around them before it dropped into a calm quietness. Marco waited patiently, seeming oblivious to the stiff teen beside him. Meanwhile, Ace wrung his hands, his eyes trained on something in the distance that did not exist.

He parted his lips. "Thank you." Marco turned slightly to face the other pirate.

"For saving Aki," Ace hurried to say before the older could get a word in. "You didn't have to, but you did. And I…" he hesitated but ploughed on when Marco looked at him encouragingly, "And I owe you for that."

Marco took care to stop a frown from weaving into his forehead. "If you hope to thank anyone, it's Rin. She was the one who treated both your friend and yourself."

"Yes, but you called for her. She wouldn't have-"

Marco cut in. "Wouldn't have known otherwise. Not that she wouldn't have helped. Anyone would have done the same, Ace. On this ship, none of us are enemies, if not brothers and sisters."

A bubble of frustration began to push at the edge of Ace's mind. Why did that damn pirate not get it? He exhaled noisily. "Okay, whatever you say, Marco. But I owe you. For not letting him die. I owe you, okay?!" He almost snarled when Marco moved to protest.

A sigh met his words. In the hushed silence, Marco's eyebrows furrowed for a moment before his face cleared. He turned to look to the sea. "Fine," he said clearly. "You owe me one. I get it."

Marco stood up, feeling a pair of eyes following his every movement. "And I will collect that debt, if you will." Ace closed his eyes. He knew this was coming. His fate had been sealed the moment he was brought onto the Moby Dick. "Starting tomorrow," Marco went on. "You will sit with me for all meals, spend the day by my side or Thatch's or anyone I tell you to, and you will make an effort to be polite, if not friendly. Just for two weeks. That is all I ask."

"What?"

Marco seemed to know what he was thinking and smiled softly. "Don't get me wrong. None of us want a crewmember who merely follows orders. What we want…"

…

"…is a brother."

Ace froze.

Marco walked off, waving. "See you at breakfast, Ace." Almost as an afterthought, he called out, "And get off the damn figurehead. You'll fall asleep."

* * *

**Do leave a review or feedback, if you'd please. :) **


	4. Good Mannerisms

**Hey guys!**

**I am _so_ sorry for the late update. Had things to do and there was some devastating news for the family.**

**In any case, thank you all for those who opted to 'follow' or 'favourite' this story. That means a lot to me.**

**I don't believe in bribing my readers for reviews, especially those such as "I shall publish the next chapter once I receive xx reviews". If I didn't receive much, it simply means my writing was not good enough. And that's okay.**

******You know, when it comes right down to it, while I do so love reviews and subscribers (it feels like a cold drink on a hot, hot day), I ultimately love writing. Whether or not I receive little to no feedback or responses, I know that, for every chapter I write, my writing improves a little than it was before I wrote it. I may not be a good writer, but the fact remains that I will continue to write and that's what's important to me. :)**

**So, for every writer out there, keep on going, yeah!**

**On to Chapter 4 of Stuck! (Poor Ace. I do wonder how he'd survive being polite to the Whitebeard pirates.) This chapter is more of a filler, but do enjoy. :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or any of its characters.**

* * *

It was a pretty normal day on the Moby Dick.

There were occasional scuffles as the crew filed into the mess hall, playful shoves and irritated grunts as morning daylight shined through the windows and cracks of the ship. Loud laughter echoed somewhere in the tight knit of people, bringing soft smiles across various pirates by reflex. It was so easy to feel at home with the crew. They were all family, after all.

Yet, it was clear as day how most of the Whitebeard crew struggled to keep their focus on their food or on their surrounding brothers or sisters, instead of trailing their gaze after a certain young fire-user who was three steps behind Marco. While his head was held high, that ridiculous orange hat of his shadowed his eyes completely but did not hide the grim set of his lips. As hard they tried though, the sudden drop in noise was audible and only after a quick cursory glance from their commander did they snap out of it.

The freckled teen moved quietly behind the first division commander, all too aware of the eyes that were trained on him. They were only curious yet his gut pushed at him to make them mind their own business. To drill into their thick skulls that he was _not_ some strange _object_ to be stared at. What the hell did they think he was? A deep-set restlessness settled in his gut. How could he survive this for two weeks? He could not, but he had to. He grumbled quietly under his breath though he kept sure to conceal his annoyance as best as he could.

Once seated, though Ace was careful to leave a reasonable gap between himself and those beside him, he cleared his throat. Marco and Thatch turned to him, as well as the few pirates nearby who heard him. He coloured slightly at the attention.

Breathing deeply, he said, "Good morning."

The still silence that ensued, broken by someone coughing into his morning coffee, only deepened the flush on his cheeks. The fire-user tried to hide the uncertainty he felt but from the surprise bordering on pride on both Marco's and Thatch's faces, Ace knew his attempts were fruitless.

Thatch positively beamed, a smile so wide it should be impossible etched on his lips. "Good morning to you too, Ace!" This was followed by enthusiastic laughter as he immediately took up the task to laden the teen's empty plate with various foods he deemed as must-haves for a fine morning.

Once the plate was filled with as much food as it could contain, Ace dished out a soft "Thank you, Thatch", making sure he had eye contact for the briefest of moments before he tucked in in a pace he knew was acceptable by most standards. This time, the silence lasted all of two seconds before Thatch practically melted into a bubble of pure happiness.

Shooting Ace another of his naturally cheery grins, he gestured towards the teen's plate before digging into the meal himself. Ace strived to keep his face neutral even as he nodded politely. He heaved in a deep breath, trying to push down the beginnings of sick nausea swirling in his gut. These were his enemies, for goodness' sake. Yet, here he was, eating with them as if they were his friends, like they would not as likely to stab him in the back like they should have ages ago. The fire-user returned a strained smile that fell safely in the polite-department when Thatch paused in his eating to stare at him expectantly, probably waiting for a response to something he had said.

Then again, Ace thought it was probably good to have someone like Thatch there. His presence was never quiet, and it helped cover up any embarrassment or wound that scratched at his prideful self. He soon fell into the quiet routine of chew-swallow-chew-swallow-drink as the fourth division commander chatted away in the background.

As Thatch began to ply Ace with bright tales of the adventures he and the crew had been through, Ace became aware of a handkerchief being held out to him. He looked up and saw Marco smiling encouragingly at him as he gestured at something on his cheek. A dozen thoughts raced through his mind. All of them were dark and tore at his insides. The warmth in that smile…

"_Hey, Ace."_

"_What?"_

_A small smile. "You have something on your cheek. Here. Use my handkerchief."_

_Snorted. "I don't need a handkerchief. See? It's gone."_

"_No! Really, Ace? You don't use your sleeve to wipe it off! That was disgusting!"_

"_Yeah, yeah."_

Ace wanted to scream.

Even though the teen wanted to tell Marco to shove off, to leave him the hell alone because no, Ace was just holding his end of the debt and did not need anyone to be kind to him…Even though he wanted to rip down the memory of a brother who had offered him a hand, a smile, and _fucking_ understanding and tear it to shreds…

Even though Ace just wanted to get up and walk away - _because he couldn't do this for two goddamn weeks_ - he found himself accepting the proffered item, meal all but forgotten.

Marco's smile stretched a little further. His eyes seemed to brighten. "Good morning, Ace."

* * *

If Thatch was surprised by the sudden change in his soon-to-be brother's behaviour, he did not show it. Ace was, after all, a teenage kid. He remembered Izo telling him (when he went to complain about another rejection from said teen to come keep him company on night watch) that kids that age were moody and were prone to fickle behaviour.

While he loved to play around, Thatch himself had long been an adult, and he could not remember the strange dwellings of the average teenager. Although Ace was _not_ the average teen. No, the pirate mused to himself, Ace was certainly not average. This morning proved that. Which person in his right mind would make a 360 degree turn from trying to kill their Pops to being startling polite overnight? And damn, did the kid know manners. The fire-user put him to shame even.

The commander remembered when he had casually asked Ace about the morning greeting. Ace had quirked an eyebrow in confusion and answered, "It's polite."

"_What?"_

_Ace's frown deepened. "I mean, it's polite to greet another when you've not met for some time. Since we are on the same ship, not seeing each other overnight mandates that it has been some time since we last saw each other. And…" he trailed off at the wonder in the elder's face, his own uncertainty playing across his young features. "And, it-it is especially important to greet someone when you dine at the same table as them."_

_The amazement had grown to full-blown awe when Ace had finished, an expression shared by the many pirates who heard the explanation. Thatch grinned when the youngest pirate had blushed a deep red soon after and immediately ducked his head to stare at his food. Oh, the kid was adorable._

_Then, realisation suddenly dawned on him. "Hey, wait!_

_Ace looked up, hesitant. "…Yeah?"_

_Thatch looked at him in horror. "Does that mean we've been rude to you all this time? We've never greeted you at all!"_

_The resulting silence only deepened the red on Ace's cheeks. "Um, no, not at all. I just-I mean. It's fine. Since we're pirates. And pirates don't-aren't really polite anyway," he muttered, wide eyes returning to drilling holes in his half-full plate. "And I didn't greet anyone either."_

_However much cornered the poor kid looked then, Thatch could not help his next words. "But _we_ should be polite! We're your big brothers!"_

Of course that had earned the commander an incredulous stare before Ace seemed to finally decide that enough was enough and excused himself – politely (who the hell still said "I beg your leave" anymore anyway?) – from the meal. Surprisingly enough, Marco had followed.

Whatever was going on, Thatch knew Marco was involved. That irritating lovable brother of his always had a way to get under people's skin (though if Thatch were to confess, Marco was just persistently _there_; never directly involved but just hovering at the side as if waiting for the best time to strike) and he would not be surprised if his friend somehow found a way to get Ace to be friendlier.

And, speaking of the two fire-users, Thatch grinned when he saw them standing at a little corner of the ship. Not too inconspicuous but a little hidden at the same time.

"Ace! Marco!"

Marco flicked a glance at him. "Thatch."

Thatch bounded over, ignoring the somewhat downcast look Ace tried to hide. He clapped a hand over the youngest's shoulder before swinging said arm over his back almost possessively. "So how's our littlest one today?" He laughed when Ace reddened at the term.

Ace scowled, having half a mind to shove that arm off his shoulders. No, he would be polite, he reminded himself sternly. "I'm not little," he grumbled instead, a frown creasing his forehead.

Thatch suppressed a snicker. Oh, yes. This kid was plain adorable. If only Ace would just become his brother already; Thatch would have plenty of ammunition against him for pranks. Though it was about time he finally gained a partner-in-crime. He mulled it over. Perhaps one day. He had a feeling Ace was more the playful kind. And what was it that Izo said? The more teenagers suppressed their inner desire to play, the more likely they were to burst in excitement when they finally could.

Thatch grinned happily to himself, aware of the wary look Marco was shooting at him. "Was I interrupting anything? Both of you looked pretty serious for a moment there."

Marco shrugged, and the fourth division commander did not miss the worried glance he slid at Ace.

"It was nothing," Ace answered, pulling down the brim of his hat to cover his eyes. There was a slight downturn of his lips. "We were just…talking."

Thatch did not miss a beat. "Oh? Can't be anything good though." Ace looked at him, alarmed, but calmed at the commander's next words. "Any conversation with Marco is dead boring." The elder ignored the annoyed huff from his friend as he leaned in to mock-whisper in Ace's ear. "I wouldn't blame you if you fell asleep when he's talking. He's all serious and no fun. Completely my opposite, I suppose you could say."

Marco rolled his eyes. "I'm right here, you moron."

"I'm right here too!"

A sigh. "Shut it before I assign you to night watch. For a month."

Thatch looked offended. He raised his hands in surrender. "That's not fair! I just did the watch last night!"

Marco raised an eyebrow indifferently. "Then stop teasing. The kid doesn't know me enough not to believe you." He turned to Ace. "Really, Ace. I'm not like-" A confused look crept across his countenance.

Thatch followed his gaze. "Huh?"

Ace suddenly buckled, his knees giving and his head drooping forward. Thatch hurried to steady him and lowered him to the ground. Both commanders shared a concerned look before they were met with soft snores from the teen. What in the world..?

The first commander said in disbelief, "He…fell asleep."

"Hey, Marco," Thatch whispered. "I think he took what I said too seriously."

Marco blinked at him. "What?"

"You _are _boring."

…

"You bastard."

* * *

[Two days later]

Whitebeard leaned down to peer at this child, Portgas D. Ace, closely. The child, and that he was, only tugged that orange hat of his lower, choosing to avoid the much older captain's gaze. That was a worrying sign, amid other concerns Whitebeard had. The boy he had offered to be one of his children should have glared at him and probably would have tried to kill him again by now.

He had received news late that evening of the sudden change in the boy. How he had practically scared the living daylights of every pirate he came across by greeting them. Not anyone could scare a Whitebeard pirate, no matter what rank they were, with a simple "Hello" or "How do you do". Besides which the fire-user had also taken to offering to help with duties on board the ship as well as smiling at anyone who passed him by.

One of his sons, who had come running with the news, had burst into Whitebeard's room, immediately weaving a dramatic tale of sure schemes to come from their newest to-be-brother. The captain had responded with that strange laugh of his and assured his son that a polite Portgas D. Ace was nothing he could not handle.

He had called for Marco to send the boy to him. While the change was concerning, nothing could surprise him at his age anymore.

A small smile tugged at the elder's lips. He knew there was something about this child that made him different. Ace shone like a sun among stars.

The freckled boy displayed startling maturity and understanding at times, his courage as captain of the Spades Pirates notwithstanding. Few had filled Whitebeard with such pride for the selflessness he showed for the benefit of his crew. And to see that fierce passion and protectiveness in one so young… The Yonkou could never have taken down someone who would have died just so his crew could live another day. It was something he understood and respected.

Of course Ace had proved true to his age by showing a certain lack of understanding to many things which were normal to others.

Although, it did surprise him that the young one before him actually knew how to be polite.

"You settling alright, brat?" Among the things Whitebeard had learnt about the fire-user was that the younger reacted aggressively – more so than usual - when labelled as his son. While the teen had a long way to go to even lay a scratch on him, the captain had no desire to bring out the violent side of the boy. There was a time for everything, after all.

Ace tilted his head upwards to glance at the elder. He hesitated but eventually sighed. "I'm fine."

"That wasn't an answer to my question, boy." Whitebeard leaned closer. "Are my sons giving you trouble? Or do you need anything to make yourself more comfortable? Being on the seas are rough, especially for a brat like you."

A fierce glint entered Ace's dark eyes. "_I_ have been on the seas long enough. I have led my crew into the Grand Line and we _survived fine_. I don't need any help from you," he answered coldly.

"Of course," Whitebeard responded carefully. "I meant no offense, Ace. I only meant the seas are tough for one as young as you, not that you lacked the skills to survive." He locked gazes with the teen, solemn.

Ace crossed his arms before looking away. "Yeah, whatever."

Whitebeard held back a small smile. "Am I an exception to your sudden bout of civility? Forgive an old man, but I find that slightly unjust."

Ace's eyes widened. His lips parted as he seemed to struggle for a dignified response. "I-That's…" He scowled at the smile that hinted at the elder's features. He ducked his head, dropping the ungraceful look to be replaced by a determined frown. "I apologise," he said clearly. "I allowed my personal feelings to cloud my judgement and so influence my actions. It was wrong and rude of me to do so. And I…I beg your pardon for the slight."

He lifted his chin to stare intensely at Whitebeard, locks of wavy black hair framing his sharp features, giving him the image of a defiant, unwavering grown man. Whitebeard decided he did not like this look from the boy at all. It made him look much older than he was. As much as Ace tried to hide it, he was still a child and the Yonkou would be damned before he allowed him to waste away his youth by hurrying to adulthood.

"There is no need for forgiveness, child." He smiled kindly at the young pirate. His eyes seemed to twinkle at the startled look he received. "You are young. And your anger is just. I believe I would not take to being kidnapped by another crew too kindly as well. Although," he paused as he pulled at his moustache in amusement. "I do not believe any pirate crew in the world would be keen to take in all my children with them. There are far too many." At this, the elder laughed.

Ace was at a loss for words.

Noticing the apparent lack of response, Whitebeard asked in concern, "Are you alright, child?"

Again, Ace completely overlooked being labelled a child. "It's nothing," he finally said. Then, fishing for something to say, he continued, "You asked to see me?"

The Yonkou only raised an eyebrow at the blatant lie. "Yes, I did. A few of my sons came to me, concerned, that you were ill."

Ace spluttered. "What?"

Whitebeard chortled to himself. "Your use and apparent proficiency in good mannerisms had them worried that you were a little…confused as to your current company." The frown on the elder's face deepened then. "And that you fell asleep in the middle of a conversation with Marco and Thatch?"

Ace coloured a violent red. "I was tired," he said hurriedly, his mind racing to find some sensible excuse as to why he just dropped from the world of living on his enemy's ship. If they knew he suffered from narcolepsy…

"And…" And oh he did try to quell the unreasonable surge of guilt at this.

Whitebeard leaned closer, eyes attentive and open.

"Marco was a little boring to talk to."

…

…

Outside, Thatch doubled over in laughter from his position outside his Pop's door as he clapped a hand over his mouth. Marco only glared at him and then the door before stalking off in a huff.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed the chapter!**


	5. Scouting Team

**Hey guys!**

**So here's Chapter 5! Can you believe it? I'm already on Chapter 5. Anyway, I really tried my best to inject my whole heart into this chapter. I'm currently on another story "_Bleeding through the__ Seams_" (another Ace story though I feel a little guilty about writing him that sad) so check that out, yeah? Here's the link to the story: s/10706624/1/Bleeding-through-the-Seams**

**Also, if you guys have any ideas you want for this story, shoot them at me! I need more plot bunnies or inspiration. But, of course the story must go on. :D Okay, I'm way too excited right now. While I know where this story is going to go (kinda?), I'd love new ideas.**

**And, before I forget, thank you for the review, story follows and favourites. I love all of you. *Here's a hug!***

**Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or any of its characters.**

* * *

"_When people don't do what they want, they don't know what to do." – Marty Rubin_

A week had passed since Ace had been forced into the deal with Marco. If he had to describe the passing of time, he'd say it was cruelly long and strained. Already he could feel the barest threads of his sanity threatening to crumble into dust and leave him stranded, alone, on the large ship.

The crew had adjusted to the civility they never knew he possessed. It was almost amusing how each crewmember would immediately jump into greeting him with jovial pleasantries when they saw him, some even clapping him on his back like old friends. Even if it had only been six days, more Whitebeard pirates had taken to following him around, asking a great deal about his life or just making small talk.

Not for the first time, Ace wondered what he had gotten himself into. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't help the strange feeling that settled in his stomach whenever some random pirate would light up – _fucking light up_ – when they bumped into him. What was there to be so happy about seeing him? He had only tried to kill their Captain over fifty times, after all.

Ace didn't like it. A small smile would creep across his lips before he knew it, or the occasional moments where he actually found himself _hoping_ to bump into someone for impromptu company. He'd immediately squish that hope to death (though it revived again and again, and with startling frequency) and hole himself up in his room until someone – often Marco or Thatch, or both – came to get him for the next mealtime.

_Only a week left_, he reminded himself. One week left and he'd be back to terrorising the ship's residents. Somehow, that left an unpleasant feeling in his gut. And that angered him.

Someone knocked on his door. "Hey, Ace!"

Ace flicked his door a resigned glance. "Yeah? The door's not locked."

He could hear the rumbling laughter outside. The door opened and Thatch poked his head inside, his already huge grin widening when he saw Ace. "Of course it's not. Just being polite."

Ace rolled his eyes. "Is it time for lunch?" On the upside, the food was great.

Thatch smirked, excitement twinkling in his eyes. "Nope. We're reaching the next island in ten minutes tops," he announced.

The fire-user straightened at this. An island? He faintly remembered Vista crowing about new adventures at the next island. Somehow, the swordsman, Namur and Izo had managed to rope him into their "scouting" team when they next landed. Ace suspected they were going to do more than scout around, though, if the mischievous glances were any indication.

Ace hopped to his feet. "I didn't know we were that near to the island. What's it called again?"

"Dew Island. There's a little town by the shore, but that's pretty much it. Surrounded by trees, lakes, scary huge predators. You know, the usual."

The freckled teen raised an eyebrow at the description. "Then why the hell is everyone so excited?" He dropped his hat on his head, leaving the room with the elder pirate. Crewmembers scattered the deck. Some leaned over the railing, pointing at the looming island with grins and shout-outs.

Thatch laughed at that. "We're _pirates_, Ace! Pirates need adventure!" He pumped his hand in the air.

"Visiting a town is adventure for you?" Ace deadpanned.

A light red tinted the fourth commander's cheeks. He scratched the spot just beneath his ear sheepishly. "We've been deprived too long!" he argued.

"Right."

Just then, Izo came running. He grabbed Ace's arm. Glaring at Thatch, he moved the fire-user almost possessively nearer to his side. "Come on, Ace. We're about to go scouting."

Confusion marred the teen's features as he glanced from Izo to Thatch and back again. "Um, okay."

Thatch watched them, amused. "Really, Izo. Like I'd steal him from you."

"Oh yes, you would," the kimono-clad pirate hissed. "If you're not with him, it's _Marco_. It's frankly getting on my nerves." His grip on Ace's arm tightened.

Thatch narrowed his eyes at the slight wince the movement elicited from the teen. "Hey, no need to hurt the kid, Izo. I'm going down with Marco anyway."

Izo abruptly let go of Ace. "Oops, sorry, Ace. I hope you'll forgive me." A soft smile graced his features as Ace stuttered slightly. He could see from the corner of his eye the disturbed look on Thatch's features. From what the teen had heard, Izo wasn't the type to be gracious. It unsettled him, somewhat, when the surrounding pirates around them had promptly choked on their food when Izo had first apologised sincerely to him three nights ago for calling him a string of colourful words and requesting that they start over.

"I-It's fine," Ace muttered under his breath.

"Great! Come on. Vista and Namur are waiting at the other side."

Ace barely waved goodbye to Thatch before he was pulled away by an enthusiastic Izo.

_What _had _he gotten himself into?_

* * *

The town was…normal, if Ace had anything to say about it. The houses, which never went above a storey high, were painted in dull colours of pale blue, green and brown, most of which were faded and cracked in places. Only a number of shops were open. The few townspeople who meandered about avoided the pirates like the plague, shooting glances at them warily.

Ace could feel more eyes on him than there were people on the streets. Damn those hiding behind windows and door holes. He hated being watched.

As they went on walking, Vista and Izo flanking the fire-user and Izo trailing a few feet behind them (Ace still wasn't sure if it was to prevent him from running away or if in concern for the youngest among them), they passed by numerous shops ranging from shoe shops to katana and make-up shops, each making one pirate or the other stop in his tracks to drool at something on display. This prompted the other waiting pirates to smirk and drag said pirate into the store.

"_It does not do to long for something you could just go in and exchange a few beli for," Izo had said, arms full of make-up._

While he was amused at their antics, Ace was quite surprised at himself when his breath caught at something he spotted in one of the shops they walked by. It was nothing fancy, almost run-down with its glass windows cracked in the corners, the interior dark and dim inside. The teen slowed in his tracks, his attention riveted on a grey infinity bracelet with tiny hooks and anchors locked at each end. His eyes fell to the price tag. His insides sank. He could never afford that much. Not when his gold had been seized by Whitebeard and his crew.

"That's beautiful," Izo breathed from beside him. Ace turned to find the pirate's face pressed dangerously close to the glass window. Any closer and he would leave red smooches on the surface.

Ace silently agreed, already walking away. "We should go."

"Wait! Don't you want to get it?" Izo called after him.

Ace went on walking, remembering rather vividly his resentment of the people he was with. Silent anger and indignation rippled through him at the unfairness of it all. He was penniless, and basically living off on them. Even if he did succeed in leaving the stupid crew, where would that leave him?

He had nothing left.

* * *

By the time they reached the middle of the town, the streets were empty.

"Well," Namur began after a moment. "I honestly can say I'm surprised."

Ace flicked him a surreptitious glance. "We're pirates. Is that so surprising?"

"We're pirates. But we're _Whitebeard_ pirates," he scoffed, as if that answered everything.

"What's your point?"

Izo pressed a finger to his temple. He rolled his eyes, before shooting the swordsman a look of disapproval. "Don't do that. Ace doesn't get it yet." He turned to the confused Ace. "Pops has taken many islands under his wing, meaning that these islands are under his protection. We usually leave our flag to mark these areas to warn other pirates who they are challenging if they so consider to attack our islands. If they do make the poor decision to do so, we take them out," he explained.

Ace looked thoughtful. "Okay. And this island…?" he trailed off.

Izo shook his head. "Not yet, but Pops is thinking about it. The islands in the New World knows that the Whitebeard pirates often refrain themselves from attacking the locals. Which," – he gestured to the empty streets – "doesn't explain this."

"Right."

Ace watched as the three commanders huddled together in a small circle. Before the stupid feeling of being left out could tug at him, Vista looked over his shoulder and dragged the teen by his arm into the circle.

Namur was the first to speak. "So what do we do?"

"We should report back to Pops. There's something going on in this town," Vista answered.

There were various nods across the group. As they discussed further with Ace being the ever silent observer, the teen finally decided to speak up. "Don't you think we're being a little too obvious here?"

Vista looked perplexed. "What do you mean?"

Ace shrugged. He dropped to a whisper. "Can't you feel them watching you? Whitebeard pirates come to Dew Island, walks through town, huddles in a circle in the middle of town. You really couldn't be more subtle." Almost as an afterthought, he hastily tacked on, "Not that it's my problem or anything."

There was a long, drawn-out silence. Ace bit his lip when all three stared at him with varying degrees of surprise. He suppressed the urge to shift his feet at the scrutiny. They probably felt disappointed or maybe even offended at his words. He did just make it clear that he wasn't one of them, after all. He tried to quell the guilt that-

"You're right," Izo finally breathed, cutting his train of thought. "Come on, let's go somewhere unobtrusive to discuss."

Namur and Vista smiled warmly at him.

Finding himself dragged yet again, Ace couldn't stop that warm feeling that had been plaguing him settle itself in his stomach, like a sleeping dragon coiling back to sleep.

* * *

[That evening]

Marco and Thatch dropped onto the deck of the Moby Dick.

"Well, that was rather uneventful," Thatch muttered sullenly.

Marco looked back at the island they were on. He supposed some islands do live up to their appearances. In this case, normal and boring. "Yeah," he agreed. "Something's off about the place though."

The fourth commander nodded. "Bet it's just some pirate holding some locals hostage or something. Pops will tell us if we need to do anything."

Both pirates started to their Captain's room. All in all, the trip to shore had been full of nothing but watchful stares. While they were one of the strongest crew in the Grand Line and were used to being stared at, the looks they received were a little too unnerving for his taste.

"Hey, Pops," Thatch called out with his usual excitement. On second thought, he added with a controlled smirk. "I mean, good evening, Pops. I trust your day had gone well?" he asked with a slight bow.

Marco barely stopped an eye-roll. "Pops," he greeted.

Whitebeard looked down at his sons with amusement. "My day had gone well, Thatch," he said, humouring the fourth commander. "Thank you for asking."

Thatch looked up at their captain proudly. He cast Marco a triumphant wink. This time, Marco did roll his eyes.

"Pops, about the island…" Marco began to ply Whitebeard with his findings.

Just as the first commander was halfway through his report, the door slammed open, revealing a rather dishevelled Izo and a flustered Namur right on his heels.

"Wha-"

Izo cut him off, a look of pure panic on his features. "Pops! It's Ace!" he cried. "He's gone!"

* * *

**Ace, where did you go? :( Reminds me of the Marineford Arc. Ugh. Breaks my heart when I think of it.**

**Do leave a review, if you will! :)**


	6. Psychopath

**HEY GUYS!**

**Thank you for all the reviews and whatnot. Honestly...I'd tell you how happy I am but I think you'd be sick of it by now.**

**Okay, first and foremost, (and for those writers who hate to see this, sorry about that) this chapter kind of sucks. I know some of you have been waiting for it but I really couldn't write it. I sat for hours, trying to forgo that writer's block, and even though I had a vague idea of what to write, the words wouldn't come.**

**I may have focused too much on this instead of that, or made what could have been a great chapter into a dull one (I am not happy with this chapter. It just...sighs...) and it's over two plus in the morning and I know I promised this would be out about two hours ago. I did toy with the idea of not publishing this today and to re-write it by tomorrow, but I wouldn't be able to. I plan to have the next chapter for my other story (Bleeding through the Seams; check it out, yeah?) out by Monday. No time to write it out tomorrow, or any day after Monday until Friday.**

**So, it's either this or Friday. Or I push back "Bleeding through the Seams" until Friday. Which doesn't seem to sit well with me.**

**Do forgive my lapse in judgement, if any. And (try to) enjoy the chapter.**

**And to **_Guest_**, thank you for the suggestion! I was initially planning to have something along those lines but it was a little different from what I had planned. :D I hope you like this chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or any of its characters.**

* * *

"_We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be." – Kurt Vonnegut, Mother Night_

Portgas D. Ace practically flew through the forest, running haphazardly through the dense forestation. He ducked to avoid a particularly low branch and nearly tripped in his haste to scramble further into the forest. His breath came in short gasps. He wasn't being quick enough.

He wasn't being fast enough.

Yet Ace felt like he had been running for too long. His steps pounded on the forest floor, the mud splashing, dirtying his already soaked form. His midnight tresses fell into his eyes and _gosh_ he only realised then his beloved cowboy hat was gone, gone, gone.

_Snap out of it_! The fire-user bit back a sharp trill of anxiety then as his foot slipped again. He crashed into the base of a towering tree. He swore. There wasn't time for this.

He was losing too much time.

They were coming.

"Fucking hell," he muttered under his breath. The musty smell of decaying greenery made him feel sick. He stumbled to his feet. He had to go. He had to leave before they find him.

* * *

"What the hell do you mean 'he disappeared'?" Thatch shouted. Hands held him back as he tried to hurl himself at the kimono-clad pirate.

Marco paced across from them, forehead creased, as he pressed a finger to his temple. Concern flitted through him. This shouldn't have happened. Ace was finally just settling in. They were supposed to have a week left to convince him that his place was with them.

Across from him, Izo only dropped his gaze to the floor. "I'm sorry." The phoenix felt the atmosphere tense even further. Izo never apologised. Not unless he harmed one of his own by accident.

Whitebeard had just gone with Namur to the village for damage control. According to the near hysterical Izo, they – Ace, Namur, Vista and himself – had been discussing strategies (and pointedly wasting time) outside an ice cream parlour. They had noticed the strange looks, but the Whitebeards had decided any possible danger weren't threatening enough for them. Marco closed his eyes briefly. The Whitebeards were strong, but their arrogance sometimes could be the death of them.

Halfway through the 'discussion', Ace had excused himself to head to the washroom. He never came back. The scouting team hadn't worried yet then. That was, until a column of bright orange flames exploded into the air a few houses down. The team had leapt to their feet, pushing past the scattering townspeople in the haste to reach the fire-user. By the time they were there, he was gone.

Not one trace was left, except for a round jagged circle of blackened soil.

Vista had refused to return and had stayed in town to search for their youngest brother-to-be. A loud bang pulled the phoenix from his thoughts.

"Then you should have watched him!" Thatch was yelling. A fierce look entered his eyes. "That was the first time – the _first_ goddamn time – he went on an island with us! You should have _taken care_ of him!" He whipped around to glare at Jozu, who held him in place. "And you! Let me the fuck go!"

Jozu grimaced at the violent look he received. "No can do, Thatch. Izo didn't mean to. It's not his fault."

Thatch only seemed to explode further. A slight tremble racked through his frame. Hands shot out, gripped Jozu's arms, and heaved pirate into the nearby wall. "I don't care whose fucking fault it is!" He headed in the direction of the town. "I don't have time to waste on someone like him," he practically spat. "It's not like he even cares."

Marco furrowed his eyebrows at the sneer. "Thatch, that's enough. We can't solve anything bickering like this."

Thatch opened his mouth, but Izo cut him to it. "Shut up, Thatch. Just shut your trap," he hissed. The kimono-clad man looked furious. "I understand I was wrong. But don't you dare speak as if I don't give a fuck about Ace."

"Oh yeah?" Thatch straightened to his full height. "Then how the hell did you miss someone as loud as him?"

"He's been quiet for days!"

"And _that_ makes it alright?!"

"No!"

"You should have followed him, you bastard!"

"That's not the point! We trusted him to come back!"

Something flickered in the fourth commander's eyes, and his body let go of the aggression that racked his frame. He stilled, fingers clenched by his side. There was a long drawn-out silence.

Marco straightened at this, concerned. "Thatch?"

The commander looked up. He levelled his gaze with Izo's, eyes dark, brimming with unbridled fury and specks of disappointment. His voice was low. "Don't you _dare_ pin this on Ace. Don't. You. Dare." He punctuated each word with a sharp snap. "Ace is young, barely even out of his teenage years, and you and the rest of your stupid team let him out of your sight on an island in the fucking New World. Where anyone, mind you, could come and take him out. Maybe you've forgotten, Izo," – at this, he allowed a hint of disdain to layer his words – "but Ace has a_ huge_ bounty on his head. And you better not forget you knew something was going on on that island when you let him walk away." Thatch turned away, as if disgusted at the mere sight of the shocked-still pirate behind him.

Izo inhaled sharply. He closed his eyes. "Thatch," he began, almost a little pleading.

"Forget it," the said pirate snapped. He walked out and slammed the door.

* * *

Marco sighed. This was giving him a headache. "Okay. So your team was discussing, and there was an explosion of sorts…" – he pointed to an area of the map of the island they had conjured – "Here. You immediately took off. And he was gone."

They were standing before the ice cream parlour where the scouting team had been in just before the explosion had occurred. Marco and Izo were investigating the strange occurrences on the island. It seemed the only lead they had to Ace's disappearance.

Izo was nodding, eyes trained on the map.

Marco slid his blue eyes to glance at his brother. He sighed. "Stop. Feeling guilty won't bring him back, Izo."

The kimono-clad pirate bit his lip. "Thatch was right," he said quietly. "I should never have let him out of my sight."

Marco didn't even blink. "Yes," he said bluntly. He placed his hands on the other's shoulder, leaning forward to look Izo in the eye. "So make yourself useful and help me figure out what the hell is going on. Guilt-tripping yourself is not going to help." The commander resented that he had to say it but nothing else would have made his brother snap out of it. Marco has known Izo for years and, true to his understanding of the pirate, Izo's downcast eyes finally cleared a little, a grim sort of determination settling in instead.

"You're right." Izo closed his eyes but opened them a moment later. "You're right," he repeated. "There's this shoe maker who rushed into his store when we got there. He could be the person to ask."

Izo guided Marco to the shop. Marco looked up at "Shoe Shiner", the name of the store shining dimly under the bright afternoon sun. It was nothing outlandish, really; just a few rows of shoes lined the display rack and a worn wooden door that was marked as "Closed". The phoenix raised an eyebrow. It was time for some investigating.

* * *

Ace dropped heavily onto his knees. He was just so tired. A large river meandered in front of him, its rather murky water gushing out in loud splashes that occasionally splattered his dirt-caked figure. The fire-user had fallen far too many times for his liking.

It wasn't that he wasn't fit or wasn't used to being in a forest. Hell, he had practically _lived_ in one almost his entire life. But Ace was tired. He was so goddamn tired. It felt like wave after wave of utter exhaustion that slammed into him just when he told himself to get a little bit further. Of course, the teen wasn't an idiot not to suspect the cause of the fatigue.

He had by no means a small appetite. Like Luffy and his Grandpa, they practically were home to bottomless pits for stomachs. With the little sleep he managed to get for over the past week, the miniscule amount he had for meals weren't helping at all. As a D. carrier, Ace knew his normal energy rate couldn't be sustained as it was. He was _starving_ and-and so freaking tired of it all.

How could he have asked for more food? He was just a freeloader on the ship. If anything, Ace hated to be a burden.

He sighed. He shifted forward. Cupping some water in his hands, he leaned closer to down the drink. The fresh water felt soothing against his throat. Some droplets splashed against his shirt, dampening the material even more than it already was.

_What should I do?_ He closed his eyes._ I can't go back. But I can't go much further either._

How far could you run on an island anyway?

A branch broke behind him.

Ace's dark grey eyes shot open. _Shit._

"Oh, you didn't really think you could run, did you?"

* * *

"A pirate-hunter?"

The shoe maker peered around him nervously, his hands wringing close to his chest, and nodded. "His name's," – he lowered his voice so quietly Marco and Izo had to lean in hear him – "Frederick Clockwork."

"Sounds harmless enough," Izo commented beside him.

The shoe maker shook his head in disagreement. "No!" He said vehemently. "You've heard of him, haven't you? The hunter."

Izo was about to shake his head when Marco spoke up. "I've heard of him." He glanced at Izo seriously. "Pirate-hunter who appeared suddenly in West Blue, made his way to the Grand Line, alone, against all odds."

Izo's eyes went wide. "Alone?" he exclaimed in disbelief. Marco wasn't surprised by the reaction. He hadn't been very receptive of the news either until he heard that one particular notorious crew had been taken down by him.

He nodded. "Took down every pirate he chose. He's been making a huge racket with the Marines, but they dare not take him in since he's practically doing them a favour."

Izo seemed to mull it over when something occurred to him. "What do you mean by 'chose'?"

Trust Izo to catch that detail. Marco crossed his arms, face solemn. He leaned against the side of a shoe rack. He levelled his gaze with his brother's. "Frederick Clockwork is known as the Hunter," he began. "He _chooses_ his prey, you could say. A pirate catches his eye enough to interest him, and he goes after said pirate. Over 30 disappearances. None of them came back." Marco paused. "What's interesting is that he only goes after the Captains who are devil fruit users."

A hushed silence fell over them.

It took a moment before Izo responded. "Ace is no longer a Captain. This might not…be one of those cases." He looks up at Marco, almost challenging.

Marco didn't even blink. "As much as I'd rather him have run away and disappeared, I don't think it's the case anymore. The only reason I've heard of Clockwork is because Ace had a run-in with him before Ace entered the New World. Created a huge uproar. From what I heard, the only reason Ace made it out was because of his crew."

The kimono-clad pirate pinched the bridge of his nose in worry. "So Ace is a target."

"I assume so."

"And this bastard has been trailing after us all this time?"

"...I suppose." _Though I think not._

Izo breezed past him. "Then let's go."

Marco nodded at the shoe maker and left the store. Uneasiness stirred in him, remembering the conversation he had months ago.

"_Oh, and apparently this Clockwork guy is a psychopath."_

"_Psychopath?"_

"_Yeah. Crazy. Insane. Mentally unsound. I'm not talking insults here."_

Somehow, he wondered if an Ace runaway would have been the better situation.

* * *

Ace leapt away, scrambling from his previous spot, eyes wide. _Shit. Shit. Shit._ A cold feeling slammed into his gut. A figure stood a few from him, half-cloaked in the shadows just enough where his features were hidden by the dark. Even though the fire-user couldn't see him, he could tell the latter was smiling.

Not one to back down, he almost snarled, "You're one sick bastard, trailing after me like this."

The other person laughed. It was raspy and grating to the ears. "Oh, child. I can't wait to have you."

Ace reeled back from the utter hunger he felt from the man. A feeling of disgust reared up inside him. "You're not taking me anywhere."

Suddenly, a man with wide forest green eyes was standing a hair's breadth from him. The verdant orbs peered down at him, wild and mocking. The rough lips twitched into a crazed smile. "Oh yes, I will."

His hand lifted. Ace's grey orbs rolled into into his head and his world went black.

* * *

Ace muffled a soft groan, his eyes blinking blearily under the bright light. He tried to pull his arms to push himself off the floor and, gasping, he tugged again at his bound hands. His _bound_ hands. The knowledge jerked the fire-user into complete consciousness. He scanned the room he was in wildly.

He was in a plain white room, and surrounded by- fuck. Grey eyes widened imperceptibly as the realisation nearly knocked the breath out of him. A cold, _cold_ feeling seeped through his veins, curling and coating his blood with tense apprehension. He was in a fucking _surgical room_.

His arms and feet were bound to the operating table with seastone cuffs (of course, he thought dryly; could that psycho be any more surprising?) and with the lack of weight at his side, he knew his favourite dagger was missing.

This was it. He was caught.

It was kind of funny how the past catches up with you. You run in with stronger opponents, lesser opponents and always coming out the victor. Until that one person who broke the routine he admittedly had taken for granted. But he was a pirate, and sailing the seas often was the soundproof getaway plan. Pirate hunters don't usually hunt you down until the end once you've gotten away, right?

Like a wolf wouldn't chase down the same deer for months until it was caught.

The door to the side creaked open, and Ace had to stifle the sharp inhalation of dread that flitted through him at the sound.

"Oh, someone's awake, I see."

Manic green eyes and dirty brown hair entered his field of vision. Getting a good look at his captor, Ace realised with a start that several ugly scars were burned into most of Clockwork's face, each edge a charred black. One of the scars seared a jagged line from one end of the man's lips to somewhere below his ear. Faint revulsion slid into the fire-user. What the hell?

Clockwork looked amused. "Oh, like what you see?" He pressed a finger to Ace's temple and skated it down his cheek to his chin. "Your handiwork, you know," he added idly. He smiled again, reminiscent of the bad, bad villain in a horror movie.

Ace shivered at the touch. The revulsion turned to full-blown disgust. "Don't touch me, you bastard," he hissed through gritted teeth. Somehow, opening his mouth too wide seemed like a bad idea.

Clockwork only leaned closer until his breath exhaled softly against the teen's ear. He pressed a hand against Ace's chest, just above his heart. He chuckled at the shudders he felt. "Oh, don't worry," he whispered. He held up a knife, leaving it to hover before Ace's eyes.

"You'll be my best study yet."

* * *

**Ahahaha...*smiles sheepishly***** That's the chapter.**

**Let me know what you think? :/**


	7. Thinking of You

**Hey guys,**

**Umm...surprise? THANK YOU for the reviews, for the story alerts and favourites. They were wonderful.**

**I wasn't going to upload this today or any day within this week (heck, I wasn't going to write a chapter for any story for a good few weeks), but a lot has been happening this week and I just needed to write to make myself feel better. Honestly, I didn't really bring the plot forward but this is something, at least? Since I don't really have any plot bunnies right now.**

**I hope it's okay and not too much of a disappointment. It really is just a drawn-out chapter of something and nothing. :/**

**Oh, and lyrics are from 'Shadows' by Red. Great inspiration. :D**

**"Bleeding through the Seams" won't be updated as of yet. Still wallowing in writer's block. And I can't really write something that doesn't move the plot forward for that story.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or any of its characters.**

* * *

_Caught in the darkness, I go blind  
But can you help me find my way out?  
Nobody hears me, I suffer the silence  
Can you tell me it's over now?  
- Shadows, by Red_

* * *

He forced himself to take in a ragged breath. And another, and another.

A stab of blinding pain shot through him again, and he fought to keep from releasing a cry. Trembles rocked through his lean frame, with occasional spasms jolting his worn body into an involuntary arch. Beads of sweat fell into his wild grey eyes.

There was a strange humming above him and oh, did he hate it. It sounded wrong. It sang of fields of grass, of deep blue skies and calming seas. It told of great adventures, of a soft human touch, of a promise of a better tomorrow, of a warm and gentle smile.

It was a string of soft alliteration cast into a soothing melody that rose and fell in pitch like the waves on a windy day.

It was wrong, Ace decided, as he lay panting on the operating table, rivulets of red droplets streaming down his skin, his hair brushed aside in favour of a strap that pinned his head down; an action taken when he had banged his head too hard in reflex to a particular sharp stab. It was wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrongwrongwrongwrongwrong…

Such a beautiful song didn't belong here. Not when he was being torn apart like a live specimen. Not when he was surrounded by surgical instruments of death. Especially not when a crazed psycho was leaning over him with that _twisted, twisted_ smile and _cold, cold_ eyes.

It was almost funny, the teen thought, that someone could have such white teeth. Weren't bad guys supposed to look hideous in every way? Wasn't that how horror stories were supposed to go?

He was in a horror story now.

A blade hovered before his eyes.

Dread filled him. It always started that way. An instrument shown off to him before being made…intimate to him in every way and form.

_Like, like a man's best friend. My dagger. My favourite little dagger_._ All alone and gone, gone, gone._

As the silver disappeared from his sight, Ace wondered then if he was going crazy too.

* * *

_Please don't let me fall forever.  
Can you tell me it's over now?_

* * *

"What happened to 'clear planning to get everyone in and out safely without causing a scene'?" Vista asked from beside Izo.

The kimono-clad pirate shoved the door open, immediately heading to the deck, and then the island to find that piece of scum who dared laid a finger on his family. Ace may not yet officially be one of them in name yet, but he was family to Izo. He was family the moment Pops decided to call him his son.

It didn't matter whether Ace liked it or not, but he was Izo's _little brother_. And he had allowed his youngest brother be taken right under his _fucking_ nose.

"Izo!" A hand grabbed his arm and pulled him back roughly. Furious eyes met a pair frustrated black eyes. "We don't have a plan!" Vista urged him to reconsider. "We don't even know if he was kidnapped or if he-"

Izo cut him off. "Or if he ran away?" he snapped. He narrowed his eyes into slits. Annoyance at being hindered rippled through him, lending him a dark aura when coupled with his growing anger. Words coated with an underlying sense of danger, he hissed, taking a step closer to his brother. "And what if he _was_ taken, Vista? What then? Do you have any _idea_ what that bastard could be putting our brother through?"

If any was surprised at the pirate's verbal acknowledgement of Ace's status on the ship, neither showed it. Vista eyed him for a long second. His face was grim.

"We need a plan. We don't even know where they are."

Izo closed his eyes, as if begging for patience. "It's a small island. We have hundreds of our brothers on standby. We'd run into them one way or another."

"And end up with someone injured, or worse, dead."

"Clockwork isn't that big a deal. We can take him. _I _can take him."

"No one ever came out alive, Izo! Even our intelligence can't get an accurate measurement of his strength!"

"All the more reason for me to go!"

"Ace needs a _rescue_, not a stupid suicide plan!"

Izo almost felt himself growl. He felt his patience thin. There was no time for this. Every second and…every second and Ace could be- Suppressing the guilt that brushed at his chest, he ploughed on, staring straight at his brother's eyes. "Vista," he began, voice cold. "If it was any other brother of ours, would you still be stopping me?"

Vista looked shocked. "O-of course I would!" A furious glint entered his eyes. "What the hell are you saying? I care about him too."

The other pirate didn't falter. "Then you better be the one to explain to him, for every other second of torture he has to go through because you stopped me, why he had to feel that pain," he said harshly. "You heard what our intelligence said. Every man that bastard caught was left alive."

A slight breeze wafted through the air. A soft chill fell over them as Izo paused, staring almost searchingly at Vista's still form.

"And every single one went insane."

* * *

_I'm holding on to you  
I'll never let go_

* * *

No one was going to come for him.

Ace knew this the moment his world went black, before he woke up in this new version of hell. _Just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, huh, Ace? _His mind seemed to mentally giggle at the thought. He gained a little brother only after almost losing him _before_ he became a brother, then went through the entirely too painful process of losing a different blonde brother, which kickstarted his self-enlightening journey to be the only older brother to a rubber idiot. His mind giggled again. Was he even making sense?

He vaguely remembered going a little tipsy in his head when that psycho…friend? Was the man with the weird brown hair his friend? But friends wouldn't stab a needle into his body…right? Ace remembered a muddy liquid being injected into his bloodstream. He recalled a faint anger dissolving into panicked struggles as he tried to throw the needle off. Remembered chuckling when suddenly everything went strange and blurry around him, almost leaning into a touch when someone stroked his hair back. He wasn't dead…was he? Somehow things didn't make sense anymore. It was almost funny.

…until the pain came.

It came in shots of blue and red. Every touch became a fire that licked at his skin (he had forgotten how fire felt like when it was his enemy; he felt almost…betrayed when it hurt), and each time a metal blade sliced at his flesh, it felt akin to being torn to shreds with claws cutting him out from the inside. His vision would blur as dark spots span in the air.

If the fire-user had any breath in him, he'd scream. He would scream and writhe and pull at his binds. He would do anything, anything to escape whatever demon was inside him that slithered under his skin and poked at his bones- that _tore him apart_, killing him slowly, dragging him through scalding, fiery bonfire.

Ace didn't want to die like this. He made a promise.

Luffy would cry if he died.

…if he ever found out. Maybe Portgas D. Ace would only be a memory, one that would die when his brother did too. He'd never be remembered. Never known. Never _mourned_.

Desperation and hopelessness reared its ugly head in his stomach. He heaved. Warm, viscous liquid fell on his cheeks and jaw.

Yes, this was a new version of hell.

* * *

_I need you with me as I enter the shadows_

* * *

Whitebeard peered at his frustrated son. "There is no plan, son."

Marco looked up at him and, for the first time in a long while, Whitebeard watched as the younger struggled to rein in the discouragement he no doubt felt. "I can't allow you to head off without a plan," he finally said when Marco didn't respond. "I understand how you feel, Marco. You know I cannot risk the lives of more of my children when one is already in danger."

His first commander's eyebrow twitched, the only indicator that he heard. The brisk wind blew through his hair which had borne the brunt of many jokes on the ship. A tense silence hung in the air, weaving harshly between the two pirates who shared a relationship not unlike that of a father and son. Moments like these were rare and far between, especially as Marco gained more experience as the first commander. As time went by, many things hardly seemed disturbing enough for Marco to seek help from the Yonkou. Whitebeard felt a little proud at the fact. All his children were growing into fine men and women.

As for Ace…That child was a different story altogether. He was dreadfully young, even for a pirate. To be a Captain at such a tender age, to hold the heavy burden of responsibility for an entire crew, and to lose everything at one go for a shot of pride… The Yonkou wondered if perhaps he had made the wrong decision to make Ace his son. Then again, he doubted the brat would have survived long in the New World without someone to watch his back. Not every pirate would give him chance after chance to attack them on their very own ship.

And now, the child was gone. Kidnapped. Taken from his watchful eyes. The beginnings of anger stirred in the Yonkou. There would be revenge. Blood would be spilt.

Marco broke the silence. "It's my fault, Oyaji." Whitebeard looked down to see his son stare absent-mindedly at his hands.

He was careful to keep his voice neutral. "What do you mean, son?"

"It's my fault that Ace was taken." The blonde's fingers curled tightly into fists.

The elder pirate leaned forward. Lines of worry, although almost unnoticeable, creased his forehead at the hint of self-loathing he detected underlying his son's words. "Ace being taken was an accident, Marco," he said gently, his thunderous voice rumbling lightly. "It was by no means your fault."

A pair of cerulean eyes met his then, almost pleading and desperate, yet strongly layered with a fierce sense of duty. "I made a deal with him." He paused for a moment, but the ensuing silence prompted him to continue. "He said he owed us for saving his crewmate, Aki, and insisted that he was in our debt. So I," – he closed his eyes – "I told him to be nice to the family."

"I fail to see how that makes Ace's kidnapping your fault."

Marco began to pace. He raised his hands almost wildly, then just as suddenly dropped them back to his side, limp. "If I hadn't," he said slowly. "He wouldn't have gone to town with the others. He would have told us to drop dead and go to hell with it." A note of guilt entered his voice. "He wouldn't have been made available to that bastard. He'd still be here if it wasn't for that stupid deal." By the end, Marco was holding his head in his hands. "We practically handed him over on a golden platter."

Without thinking about it, Whitebeard touched his first commander's shoulder gently. He waited until Marco raised his gaze to meet his. "No one can predict the future, son. As pirates, we live by the day, and hope to see a tomorrow. We live in freedom and in danger. That is why we watch each other's backs. Why we protect each other. So all of us may live to see a tomorrow together." Marco's eyes widened fractionally. "If we were afraid to live, to make choices lest they come back to haunt us, what sort of pirates would we be?" At this, the elder pirate's eyes twinkled lightly. "I am proud that you extended your hand to Ace despite his hostility. You make a fine older brother, Marco."

Marco gaped at him in shock. "O-oyaji…"

Just then, the door slammed open. Vista ran in, his moustache drooping. "Oyaji," he said grimly. "Thatch disappeared."

* * *

_There's a hate inside me like some kind of master  
I tried to save you but I can't find the answer_

* * *

It was funny the things he thought about during his moments of clarity. Ace would have thought he'd forcefully bring up memories of Luffy and Sabo, of Dadan and the rest of his stupid extended 'family', if he could call them that, of Makino and the Mayor, of a forest and a treehouse. And that violent Grandpa of his. When he imagined his end, he thought he'd be frantically memorising their faces, etching them into the deepest confines of his mind so at least he wouldn't die alone.

If he had to die before he was ready to, at least he'd die with the knowledge that Gol D. Roger's son, Portgas D. Ace (or more aptly Gol D. Ace), would pass on with memories of people who would mourn him. Who would shed tears and weep for the loss. Maybe they would look at his favourite spot on the hilltop on Dawn Island, allowing nostalgia to sweep under their skin as they think quietly, _'Ace used to sit there. Right at this spot. His feet would be…here, his legs pulled up against his chest. That's how Ace sat here, staring at the sky and the stars.'_ It wasn't that the teen wanted anyone, especially Luffy, to go through the grief his death might bring on. Luffy, Grandpa…Dadan, they would be strong enough to move on. He was just another brat, after all. But, to be mourned was proof that he had _lived._

A stinging wetness pricked his eyes. Despite the cursed blood that ran through his veins, even though he was _weak_, Ace wanted to fucking _live_. A wave of yearning swept through him, almost overwhelming in its intensity as it drove his desperation to break free to greater heights. He just wanted to live.

"Oh, struggling again, aren't we?" Verdant green eyes entered his field of vision. The two orbs seemed to cackle crazily at him. "I think it's about time for another injection." The psycho left his line of sight, his light footsteps the only indicator that he was even in the room.

Ace pulled at his bindings, thrashing madly. "Don't you dare put that in me!" he snarled. He tugged at his arms but they only sagged further against the cool metal table whenever more skin brushed against the sea stone. It was futile. Despair slid into him.

"Oh, don't you worry, my sweet," Clockwork cooed from somewhere behind him. "I have something for you before we enter the next phase."

The despair quickly changed to cold fear. Whatever that something was, he was sure as hell he wouldn't like it. "And what would that be?" Ace hissed anyway through gritted teeth, trying his damnest to keep up the bravado.

As if in answer, four similar looking daggers were left to hover above his eyes. He flinched reflexively. The hilts were designed in intricate patterns of dancing flames woven into black. The blades were razor sharp with a sudden jagged drop near the base of the handle, then curved dangerously before tapering off to a gruesome edge. They were beautiful. If they weren't about to cause him significant pain.

Ace felt a whimper build up his throat. There were _four_ fucking blades. He fought to keep his cool. "You're one sick bastard, Clockwork."

Clockwork grinned as he pulled the daggers away, the metal tinkling as they dangled haphazardly from his grip. "Oh, you're not the first to tell me that, my little sweet." He brought one of the daggers dangerously close to his eyes, as if to inspect it, and left the rest of the daggers on a table the fire-user couldn't see. "Do you know what makes a man go crazy, Ace?"

Ace tried to force a smirk. "I don't know, Clockwork. Why don't you tell me?"

Clockwork narrowed his eyes. He leaned in to whisper in his ears. His breath ghosted again the teen's skin and the younger let out an involuntary shiver. "A man goes crazy, Ace," he murmured, "when he loses all his senses. And do you know what makes a man lose all sense of his being?" He didn't wait for an answer. "When beautiful, _beautiful_ pain blocks out everything." Clockwork jerked off from his position from Ace's ear. He began to frantically sharpen the dagger as he paced the small room in abrupt movements.

"A man, who prides himself on accomplishments and glory, who would rather bow to the earth than to his enemies. A man, who would betray his own blood for power and strength, his loyalties for money and status, for every worldly gain." Ace watched in almost sick fascination as the pirate hunter paused in his verbal rant and tilted his head to stare at Ace with that hollow, empty look. The fire-user shivered, feeling violated just from the way the psycho looked him over. The hollow look morphed into hunger. Clockwork seemed to glide closer. His trailed a rough palm over the plan of Ace's stomach to his upper chest to the juncture between his neck and shoulder blades, seeming to delight from the shudders that wrecked the younger's frame.

"But I," he went on, as if Ace wasn't pressing himself against the operating table in a vain effort to escape his touch. "I will save this world."

Confused grey orbs met maniacal forest green. "I will purge this world of greedy men. Pull them off their thrones they have cast themselves upon and drag them to heel. I will _break _them until they beg for mercy."

Ace gaped at him. "And I'm one of these men?" he spluttered. He was a pirate, yes. But he wasn't evil…was he?

For a moment, a look of pity flashed across the hunter's features, but was gone so fast the teen wondered if it had only been his imagination. "No, you're not," Clockwork said quietly. "Yet." He turned away. "You see, my young one," the hunter went on. "You were rising so fast. Offered to be a Shichibukai, making a name for yourself. One day, you would be just like those filthy men who only want power. It is a pity, for someone as young as you, to end like this. But I would have to come for you one day or another. At least, know that you have made yourself useful before your time is up, my sweet."

Ace felt the trickles of anxiety build up. "Useful?" he repeated nervously. He mentally kicked himself for the inflection.

"Yes, useful. I will study how to break you," Clockwork said casually. "So I may break those filth quickly and spare myself the pain from being in close proximity with them for too long. But first, I will save you."

The dagger was brought down with startling accuracy. A blinding pain seared through his right wrist and a scream tore through his throat. Loud gasps followed after. His body arched. What the fuck _was_ that? The stupid humming Ace hated sang somewhere above him. Wild grey eyes rolled to see a dagger embedded in- _in his fucking wrist_.

"Did that not hurt enough?"

_Oh fuck_. A hand shot out to grab his right hand and pulled. Ace released another pained cry. "_You- _oh, the cursed-" he trailed off into unintelligible curses, struggling not to jostle his injured wrist when another strike of searing pain shot through his other hand. _Oh fuck, fuck, fuck._

His body trembled. Cold sweat fell into his eyes. Ace could hear his ragged breaths, shallow and almost breathy, as his heart pounded loudly in his chest. His muscles strained and the teen swore no human could stay conscious through this. The stupid psycho probably did something to him. He screamed again when his arm was pulled, the agony sending heated sparks through his blood like frazzled wire. His body started to spasm, jerking sporadically, probably in reaction to some stupid substance that bastard put in him.

"Two more to go."

The same wild grey eyes widened.

Ace wondered if he was weak if he gave up then. After all, he didn't deserve to be saved. In the end, it wasn't Luffy's or Sabo's or anyone from Dawn Island that he was thinking of as he was tortured to break. It was a selected group of people who had obnoxiously called them his family.

* * *

_I'm holding on to you  
I'll never let go  
I need you here with me as I enter the shadows_

* * *

Somewhere across the compound, a figure slipped into the seemingly abandoned facility.

* * *

**The reason Clockwork hadn't come for Ace before this was because he hadn't known Ace was still alive. In this story, Ace and his crew practically disappeared off the face of the world, not even entering the papers anymore, as their captain fought for their freedom on the Moby Dick. Many thought he had fallen from his battle with Whitebeard. I was a little worried that I had Whitebeard OOC though.**

**Also, would you prefer more...graphic depictions of Ace's dilemma or not? I held back a little here.  
**

**Leave a review if you're excited for the next chapter! ****And please feel free to suggest any scenes that maybe you'd like to see, or criticism etc. :) They inspire me a lot, honestly.**


	8. A Brother's Dedication

**And hello to you, my lovely readers.**

**Can I take this moment to dab at my eyes, please? Thank you so much for the reviews, story alerts and favourites. I can't even begin to describe each moment of joy I felt for every single one I received. Just for that, this chapter is a little longer than usual because all of you made me feel like writing so much.**

**Again, great inspiration from a song (Already Over) by Red. I can't tell you how torn I was between the songs.**

**In regards to "Bleeding through the Seams", I will update it soon. I just can't seem to find the right idea yet. I confess, I make things up as I write. I never know how a chapter will go until I'm halfway through it. Another reason why writer's block really hinders my progress.**

**Enough said, on to the chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or any of its characters.**

* * *

_You never go  
You're always here  
(Suffocating me)  
- Already Over by _Red

* * *

Marco was going to kill him. He and every single _idiot_ who thought they could take on the world single-handedly, as if everything will always turn out alright, no matter the circumstances, no matter the odds. He clenched his fists in frustration.

Ace had been taken. And now that stupid, _stupid_ Thatch was _fucking gone_. Disappeared. Probably off to play the hero. Didn't he know they lacked information? Didn't he think perhaps he wasn't the only one going frantic over the fire-user's disappearance?

_Thatch, you bastard. Leaving me to worry about you too._

"Marco!"

The person in mind turned, rigid and cold, to face Vista and Namur. Both of them looked at him in obvious concern. Marco felt an eyebrow twitch in irritation. "Well?" he prompted after a moment of silence, taking care to assume a blank tone. He wasn't the first commander for nothing. Keeping a cool head, at least for appearance's sake, was his forte. He had to be calm.

It was the only thing he knew how to do.

The two pirates shared a quick look. "Oyaji gave the signal. We can head off in half an hour."

The phoenix's eyes imperceptibly widened. A thrum of energy rushed through him, pulsing in his blood as his mind already began to skim through the needed preparations.

"Make it twenty minutes."

That Clockwork bastard was going to die.

* * *

_Under my skin, I cannot run away  
Fading…slowly…_

* * *

"_Where's your hat, Ace?"_

"..my hat?" a soft croak, barely above a whisper.

"_Your hat! Your orange hat, remember?"_

That was…Luffy's voice. Two hazy grey eyes blinked blearily at the whitewashed ceiling above him. His fingers twitched by his side and the ensuing twinge of pain that shot up his arms drew a wince from him. Soft huffs of air expelled from his barely parted lips.

"_Ace? Ace! Are you listening to me?"_

A sort of exhaustion tugged at the very core of his bones. Sweat fell into his eyes and he blinked. …Luffy? Quiet alarm filtered through him. "Lu…ffy?" he whispered again. _You're not here._

"_Of course I'm here! Ace," – the voice turned demanding, angry even - "Where's your hat?"_

His chest rose and fell, quickening ever so slightly as the alarm changed to confused anxiety. His heart rate increased, forcing itself to break from the sluggish heaviness that cloaked the fire-user from the tips of his toes to the very ends of his hair. His eyes rolled wildly from side to side, trying to catch a glimpse of the boy he would die without a moment's hesitation for- the little brother he desperately hoped was not there. With the restricting strap from his head gone (Clockwork had deemed him 'docile' enough for the contraption to be unnecessary), Ace mustered what strength he had to crane his neck to find the source of that voice.

"Luffy?" he croaked through parched lips. His breathing sped up. A soft plea entered his voice. "You're not" – he fought back a gasp – "…here."

Machines surrounded him, stripes of white and pale blue streaking across each vehicle, clean and so, so empty. One of the computing devices registered irregular jagged lines that rose and fell in unpredictable waves, in time with the beating of his heart. His heartbeat, Ace vaguely realised. It was monitoring his heartbeat. Another scan of the room and his gaze faltered – froze – when it fell on a slim figure, draped in utter darkness standing a few feet from him.

Like the cold breath of the deepest sea, Ace paled.

"_You're not answering me, Ace. Where's your hat?"_

He could feel it staring at him. The teenager began to shake. It couldn't be Luffy. That…creature near him couldn't be his pure, naïve little brother. Ace wanted to look away, but whatever that thing was kept him hypnotised like a mouse trapped by the glare of a snake. The figure was cloaked in black, seemingly flat against the sterile background, and

reeking of decay and burnt wood. Yet, what caught the fire-user's gaze was the tell-tale outline of a hat, so similar to that prized possession of his brother's, resting on its head.

_Luffy… Did he get you too? _Despair filtered through him. This was impossible. Luffy shouldn't have set out for at least another two years. And Clockwork didn't have anything on them to know who Luffy was to him. What Luffy meant to him. Ace knew if he had to give up his sanity for his brother's sake, he would. He'd give up everything- his mind, his body, his name, and even the darkest secret he refused to acknowledge even upon pain of death.

"_Why are you ignoring me?"_

Ace whispered, "You're not Luffy."

"_Of course I'm Luffy! Are you an idiot?"_

The fire-user allowed all energy to drain from his body. "You're not Luffy," he repeated. "You're not here."

"_Don't be crazy, Ace! And where's your hat?"_

"My…hat?"

"_Your orange hat! The one I gave you, remember?"_

Oh. That hat. Apart from Luffy, Dadan and the mountain bandits, and perhaps Makino, no one should know how he had obtained the hat. The cowboy hat was a precious farewell gift from his little brother, handed over with that blinding smile before he was tackled into a swift and tight hug. As he had felt the grip on his body tighten around him, the little brat had started crying earnestly onto his shoulder. Begging him to be safe and to be careful during his journey because, if anything happened to his big brother, what would he do? Ace had laughed at him then. Told Luffy he was being stupid. If anyone was to worry endlessly about their brother, it'd be him, not his idiot little brother.

The smile that had begun to curve the ends of his lips fell as he remembered where he was. "I…lost it."

"_You lost it."_

Even though Ace knew that person couldn't be his brother, he answered anyway. "I did," he admitted softly. "I'm sorry, Luffy."

The figure suddenly disappeared. In less than a blink, the dark creature towered over him, horrifyingly close to his face. Ace's breath caught. Its voice turned vile. _"That hat marked us as brothers. Do you have so little appreciation of our brotherhood you couldn't be bothered to keep it safe?"_

Definitely not his brother, Ace thought hazily. His brother didn't know big words like that. But that didn't stop the guilt.

Eyes darker than the dark appeared._ "And now, it's time to punish you."_

A hand touched his stomach, almost mockingly gentle.

"_Dear brother of mine."_

That's when the screaming started.

* * *

_I can't resist  
Take all you want from me  
Breaking…slowly…_

* * *

Thatch was thrown into the room forcefully. Eyes drawn up in a glare, he tried to push himself to his feet, but a swift kick to his jaw sent him tumbling into some stupid machinery clicking away behind him. A hand grabbed his bound arms and shoved him into a chair, promptly securing him as he thrashed wildly against his bindings.

"You bastard! Let me go!" he demanded.

The brunette in front of him only chuckled. He moved away as he hummed some stupid song, his doctor clothes flapping slightly behind him. Thatch growled under his breath, hating himself for having been caught. Now Marco was really going to kill him later. And Oyaji. The dread he usually felt when an impending scolding was inevitable filled him. He sighed, when his eyes caught- he paled. _Oh. Fucking hell_.

A familiar figure lay bound on an operating table…? His mind faintly registered the logic behind the machinery and the brunette-doctor's clothing. A sick feeling reared inside him as he drank in the sight of the kid he (and his family) had been searching high and low for. The kid he had been worrying to death over.

Dark, huge bruises marred the young teen's used-to-be flawless skin, some turning a deep yellow. Blood smeared his skin in odd places. From his secured location, Thatch could see small streams of crimson liquid leaking onto the metal table. Dripping. From gashes and cuts and fucking pierces all over the kid. The elder pirate realised with sick nausea that only the kid's face was spared. His head was tipped back, tresses of midnight hair falling in waves about him, lips parted, revealing the tips of blood-soaked teeth.

_Fuck all the seas and land._ What the hell _was _this?

The pirate then caught sight of the four knives stuck in Ace. The nausea turned to full-blown disgust. Ace was fucking _pinned_ to the table _like some fucking cockboard. _Both of his wrists were stabbed through, and another two pierced right through his ankles. Ace's blood – his life force – pooled around the four grievous injuries, the edges of each somewhat dried, indicating some time had passed since the teen was stabbed like an object.

Thatch moved his shocked gaze to the brunette-doctor. "What the hell did you do to him?" he breathed, eyes wide.

The brunette-doctor halted in his humming to throw him a glance. "Hmmm? Oh, my handiwork, you know. Like what you see?" he asked, amused.

Break…him? As if he had been caught in a daze, Thatch snapped out of it. Suddenly raw anger contorted his usually features and he bucked in his seat. Black eyes narrowed dangerously. "_You bastard! _I'll _kill_ you for this!" he snarled.

The bastard just smiled humourlessly at him. "You're one of those Whitebeard pirates, aren't you? Judging from your mark."

Thatch growled. "What's it to you?"

"Oh, being difficult, are we?" The brunette-doctor glided across the room to stand beside Ace. A hand touched the fire-user's cheek and Thatch swore his vision turned red. "If you're here, it means your crew will be here soon as well. I really must apologise, pirate," he said smoothly. The hand travelled to Ace's jaw. A finger rubbed the smooth skin almost tenderly. "Knowing your crew's strength, I cannot stay overly long." His eyes narrowed. "I must have my answers quickly."

Thatch returned the glare. "Haven't you done enough?"

"Oh, almost. You see, I've almost broken him. It's almost funny, how easily pain breaks a man. They become a sobbing mess, pleading, choking on their own blood for a chance to live," the brunette-doctor rambled. His hand never strayed from the younger pirate's face. "This one will not last for much longer, pirate."

The threat hung in the air. Thatch held still. If he could delay this long enough, his family would find them. He may be an idiot, but he had left enough clues for them to track him down. They should already be notified of his own disappearance by now too. Knowing Marco (and Oyaji), they wouldn't dally for even a second when another life was threatened as well.

"Yes."

The brunette-doctor looked surprised.

"Yes," Thatch repeated, doing his utmost to glare a hole into the bastard's chest. "I'm a Whitebeard pirate."

The other only smiled. He patted Ace's cheek, his smirk widening when Thatch tensed further. "Why are you here?"

"You took my brother."

The brunette-doctor raised an eyebrow. He flicked the unconscious pirate a glance. "He's not marked."

Bitter frustration filled the elder pirate. "How would you know?" He asked, disdain clear in his voice.

He received a derisive sneer in response. "I checked him over." Green eyes zeroed in on his black ones, careful to hold the pirate's gaze as he added his next word. "Completely."

Thatch gasped as he realised the implied meaning of the words. "You didn't," he said in growing horror. His eyes flicked from the hand on his soon-to-be brother's cheek to the soaked operating table to the torn skin. "You didn't," he repeated, trying to convince himself that he did _not_ let this happen.

"Perhaps not," the brunette-doctor admitted casually. "Now, answer me again. Why are you here?"

The commander had to force himself to answer. Cold fury began to radiate off of him in waves. "I told you," he hissed. "You took my brother."

"How is he your brother?"

Thatch trained his fierce gaze on the brunette-doctor's every move. "Oyaji took him in. He's just being stubborn about it."

Understanding lit up the brunette-doctor's forest green eyes. For a moment, the person even looked sane, before a blanket of raw hunger clouded his eyes. He moved away. Thatch barely held back a sigh of relief when the other man finally put some distance between Ace and himself. This relief was shot to hell when the brunette-doctor returned a moment later, but with a syringe in hand.

"They say Whitebeard pirates are…protective of each other," the green-eyed monster said. He pressed the end of the syringe once, twice, then nodded to himself. He held the medical instrument above the fire-user's arm. "What would happen, I wonder," he mused, "if I did this?" He plunged the sharp end of the syringe into Ace's arm and injected some sort of purple liquid into him.

Thatch stared at him through widened eyes. "No! Stop it! Let him go!"

His cries went unanswered and he finally quietened when the younger pirate stirred. He was about to call out to him, to assure him that he wasn't alone, when Ace suddenly muttered something under his breath. Luffy? Who the hell was Luffy? It was with sick fascination the Whitebeard pirate felt as he watched Ace talk to himself. Even though the fire-user had looked about the room, a desperate light in his clouded eyes, he didn't notice either of them. A sort of resignation seemed to fill the teen as he whispered softly into thin air. Something about a hat. And an apology.

Thatch felt something twist inside of him. Even though he badly wanted Ace to become his brother, he knew nothing of this brother he had tried (and so pathetically failed) to save.

He was jolted out of his thoughts when the screaming started.

The Whitebeard commander looked on in shock as Ace suddenly bucked, his limbs pulling desperately to break free, almost dislodging the daggers that were embedded in his flesh. His lips were bared, letting loose hoarse cries that barely made it past his throat (and Thatch internally cursed at that, knowing it could only mean Ace had screamed himself silent in the time they were separated). His long pale fingers curled, his knuckles turning white as his body heaved and thrashed, muscles straining as the veins on his skin tautened. Wild grey eyes rolled back into Ace's head now and again. Sweat trickled down his worn figure.

Unable to watch further, Thatch called out to him, "Ace! It's okay! It's okay, just hang on, alright!" He ignored the ensuing chuckle from the cause of his brother's pain with a vengeance. "You'll be okay!" he cried desperately. "I'm here now! You're not alone, Ace! It's me, Thatch! Please, just hang on!"

Thatch didn't stop. Not even when Ace began to choke, red liquid dribbling down his cheek; especially not when tears gathered at the corners of the teen's eyes before sliding down his cheeks; or when one of the daggers was forced out from the metal surface when one particular movement had jerked it out. This prompted the brunette-doctor to move forward and bury the device into the table again, making sure it was embedded in flesh until to the base of its hilt. The commander had snarled profanities at this.

It felt like hours when it finally stopped, though he noted with alarm the sudden jerks that shuddered through the fire-user's body. Thatch almost sagged in relief.

"Time for the next phase," the brunette-doctor hummed to himself. Sparing the Whitebeard pirate a glance, he walked out, the door clicking shut behind him.

Thatch didn't waste time. "Ace!" he whispered loudly. He tried to move his chair forward. "Ace!" _Come on, come on. We don't have much time._ He raised his foot as high as he could go and kicked the edge of the table lightly, not wanting to jostle and hurt the teen anymore than he had to.

Ace stirred again then, having fallen unconscious right after the effects of the substance had subsided. He flinched at the light.

"Ace!" The elder pirate called again. Ace started and Thatch fell silent as the tired grey eyes wandered the room almost sluggishly before settling on him. The eyes widened.

"T-Thatch?" he whispered.

Thatch nodded vigorously. A heavy weight lifted off his shoulders. Ace recognised him. "It's me," he confirmed.

The grey eyes narrowed slightly. "This could be another of Clockwork's tricks." Despite his words, Ace tilted his head back up to stare uncomprehendingly at the ceiling, as if he didn't care if it was.

Thatch ignored the worry that gnawed at him. "It's me," he reaffirmed. "I'm here, Ace."

Ace only twitched.

"Ace? Ace, answer me. Please, we don't have time," the elder pirate pleaded. He threw the door an anxious glance. "Ace? Hey, are you okay?" _Like hell he's okay. Look at him, Thatch! What kind of stupid question is that? _He winced. "Sorry. Standard question."

The fire-user expelled a huff of air. "I'm going crazy, aren't I?" he whispered to himself. "I'm going insane and I can't do anything about it." Before Thatch could get a word in, the teen looked right at him, his eyes piercing and unreadable. "I saw you," he said quietly. "You. Marco, Izo, Vista…Whitebeard. All of you."

Thatch frowned. _Huh?_

Ace went on, oblivious to the other pirate's confusion. "All of you were here. Looking at me. Staring."

The commander hesitated. "What did we do?"

The teen's gaze fell. "You told me to die." Ace started laughing.

* * *

_All I'm reaching for  
It's already over now_

* * *

Clockwork walked through the empty halls, a small smile in place. He felt like singing.

The little sweet would break soon. Very, very soon. He could feel it, and he never failed in his predictions. A sense of euphoria engulfed him. He enjoyed this. And what better than to love what you do while doing the world a favour?

As for that Whitebeard pirate… A frown creased his forehead as his excitement dulled a little. He couldn't let him go. He couldn't keep him either. His crew would come after him one way or another. Clockwork knew the rumours, heard what they said about the Whitebeards. They treated each other like family, having even taken to calling their old Captain their _father_, and they his sons and daughters. Another striking knowledge about the famous crew was their dedication to each other. No matter what rank, if a brother or sister was felled or hurt, there would be revenge.

It was startling to hear of something so…familial in a pirate crew. It wasn't real. Couldn't be. All of them were evil to be purged.

Perhaps…perhaps he would return the Whitebeard in his operating room. Take away his memories? No, that experiment wasn't complete yet. It might not even work.

Or maybe a deal would suffice. Clockwork felt the corners of his lips turn downwards. He would have to give something up. Yet he knew freedom was more important.

Just as he was about to make the decision, a loud crash resounded outside the compounds. Irritation crept into him.

It seemed as if he was out of time.

* * *

_I'd give it all to you  
Letting go of me  
Reaching as I fall  
I know it's already over now_

* * *

"We would never!" Thatch exclaimed, indignation and shock plastered all over his face.

Ace peered at him tiredly. "I know, Thatch," he whispered. "I know."

Thatch looked surprised. "Huh?"

Ace rested his aching head against the cool metal beneath his head. He shivered. His answer was breathy. "You came. You're…here now?" The inflection near the end made it seem more a question than a statement.

The pirate still looked confused. "Of course I'm here! We weren't lying when we said we wanted you as our brother, Ace. Don't you understand that yet?"

"And…" Ace swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat, almost wincing when the action set some of his nerves alight. "If I still refuse," he went on slowly. "Would you still have saved me, Thatch? I'm not your brother. I never will be." A strange sense of longing settled inside him. Ace closed his eyes, allowing the darkness to engulf his world. This didn't stop the next words that left his mouth. "Would I still be worth it?"

There was a small pause before Thatch let out a humourless chuckle. The ugly feeling in his chest made Ace want to throw up. He knew the answer. Of course he did. It must be the pain, causing him such painful lapses in judgement to ask something so very silly.

"Of course you're worth it, Ace," Thatch answered not a moment later. His voice was firm. "It doesn't matter whether you take Oyaji's name or not. You became my brother, and I speak for myself here but I doubt the others feel differently, the moment you first fell into the sea because you fell asleep."

Ace cracked his eyes open in surprise.

"I know. I understand how you feel. I know we can't just spring up feelings of attachment or even care towards someone we just met," Thatch went on. "But all of us tried. And," he paused. "And here I am, Ace. The others will be here soon too." Ace could feel a pair of determined eyes lock on him. "We don't suddenly care for someone just because they took up Oyaji's name."

Ace felt his breathing speed up.

"We're human too."

* * *

_I'd give it all to you  
I offer up my soul  
It's already over, already over now!_

* * *

Clockwork slammed the door open, startling the two pirates.

He rushed towards Ace, tearing the daggers out of the pirate's flesh, smiling almost delightedly when each action elicited a cry from the fire-user. He ignored the verbal thrashing he received from the Whitebeard pirate across the room from him. He was careful to ensure the sea stone cuffs were safely in place.

"My apologies, my sweet," he said tenderly as he caressed the teen's jawline, an arm wrapping around the teen's bleeding back to support his unsteady body. The kid only closed his eyes in resignation. "It seems we have to run. I'm sorry I couldn't break you earlier." The finger fell to his neck. "Prolonging your pain like this."

"Let go of him, you vile scum!"

Clockwork barely blinked. He turned to the other pirate. "Let us make a deal, pirate. A truce, you can say."

The pirate paused in his ramblings and immediately focused on him, wary. "What deal?"

"Tell your crew to back off, and I shall let you go."

The pirate snorted. "We came for him. Do you think we'll let you take him from us from our very noses?"

Clockwork narrowed his gaze. They were running out of time. He supposed there was no other way for it, then. He could always start again later. "I'll allow both of you to go free."

Disbelief. "What?"

"In exchange for my freedom. You will tell your crew not to hunt me down. Not to cross paths with me. We shall…part ways here." A victorious glint entered his eyes when the pirate faltered. "Shall we, pirate?"

Just as the bound pirate opened his mouth to speak, a cold voice spoke up from behind him.

"I think not, Clockwork."

He turned in alarm, dragging the now unconscious fire-user's form with him. The latter's legs fell from the operating table with a heavy _thud_. A blonde man bearing the mark of Whitebeard on his chest glared fiercely at him. Clockwork didn't miss the anxious glance towards the young pirate in his arms.

"It's over now."

* * *

**In regards to graphic descriptions, not much here but most of it is implied..If you really want graphic depictions, I'll post it in a different chapter, a one-shot maybe. I'd rather spare those who don't want to read it. I was a little...taken aback myself when I first read such detailed scenes. Tell me what you think?**

**I hope no one was OOC and that it wasn't too boring or not up to expectations. In the meantime, I'm really trying to make the sentences flow. I really don't like the transition from one sentence to another.  
**

**Leave a review if you're excited for the next chapter! Or if you have feedback, criticism or anything of the like. :)**


	9. Green Eyes

**Hey guys!**

**New chapter is here! I really hope you guys like it. It didn't really go the way I planned (okay, fine, I just make it up as I go but the whole turnout wasn't really what I expected either). And...I'm so sorry! Please don't come after me when you reach the ending. You'll understand why when you have.**

**Like always, thank you so much for the reviews, story alerts, favourites and, of course, every single reader who have dedicated even a second of their time to read this fic. Thank you. I can't express how grateful I am that this fic managed to bring you guys even this far. (To be honest, I have never made it beyond four chapters for any of my fics; except for this and "Bleeding through the Seams").**

**Speaking of "Bleeding through the Seams", I've updated it yesterday! Do look out for it on my profile if you haven't! :D Honestly, Ace seems to suffer in both stories so much...**

**To **_Guest_**, thank you for the review! Phew. I was worried I had the characters OOC. Thanks for the feedback. :)**

**To **_Guest_ (2)**, *tears a little* Thank you so much for the kind words! Yes, I do want to be a writer; at least, I've considered it. Not sure if I could yet though.**

**To **_Collette Nicole_**, thank goodness! I was really hoping to keep things tasteful while making it more obvious how much Ace was suffering under that madman's hands. I hope you like this chapter! Thank you for the review. :)**

**To **_109876543212014_**, thanks for the review! Yes, keeping it realistic has always been a worry for many writers, I'm sure, no matter where we are in a story. I'm glad you liked the chapter!**

**To **Winter**, I was originally going to make it Izo, but I then felt Thatch was more likely of the two to be more rash in his anger to go find Ace on his own. Glad you like the chapter! Hopefully, Ace wouldn't go insane...**

**To **_waterwolf_**, thank you for the kind words. :) I suppose, sometimes as the writer, we can't really tell if we said too much to make it draggy, or said too little to make it too...obscure. No matter how we read it, it's just...hard to envision what we wrote in our minds. (Or maybe it's just me.) Don't worry about the review thing. I'm already glad you enjoy both of my stories. :D**

**Inspiration by song "Safe and Sound", by Taylor Swift. Though I listen to this beautiful cover.**

**I hope you guys won't be disappointed by this chapter! I know how much you were looking forward to it.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or any of its characters.**

* * *

_Don't you dare look out the window, darling, everything's on fire  
The war outside our door keeps raging on  
Hold on to this lullaby, even when the music's gone (gone)  
- Safe and Sound _by_ Taylor Swift_

* * *

"I think not, Clockwork."

Marco stood, panting slightly, by the door to the operating room, his sharp blue eyes fierce with the anger he felt building inside him. Frederick Clockwork, he thought with a sneer, looked anything but dangerous. He took in the brown hair, the slightly tall stature, the impossibly bright green eyes and the ugly burnt scars on his face. The phoenix sincerely hoped the scars were courtesy of Ace. This man deserved to suffer every second and degree of pain.

His eyes fell to the unconscious pirate in Clockwork's arms, widening imperceptibly at the gruesome state his brother(-to-be, he mentally added) was in. The anger bubbled into cold fury, causing the pirate to shake. He glared at the bastard who dared lay a finger on his family.

His voice was painfully calm. "It's over now."

The brunette only shuffled backwards, dragging the teen along with him. Marco realized belatedly that Ace wasn't wearing his typical combat boots, nor his trademark hat. The teen's head lolled against Clockwork's shoulder, sweat-soaked black locks falling over his eyes.

"I see I've miscalculated," Clockwork was saying, a sick grin on his features.

Marco followed his movements closely. His arms were raised, though he was unsure if it was to defend or to go on the offensive. Tension rolled through him. His flames wouldn't hurt another but to rely solely on strength and agility could hurt Ace beyond his healing capabilities, or push him over the brink. The commander wasn't so sure how far gone the younger fire-user already was. Judging from Thatch's pale complexion, the one he sported whenever someone in the family was hurt, Marco would guess Ace was pretty far gone already.

"Marco!" Thatch called. The blonde caught him struggling a little from the corner of his eyes. "End it. Now. He can't last for much longer."

His answer was clipped. "I got it." Marco turned back to the watching brunette. "This can end two ways, Clockwork." He held out two fingers. "You give him to me now, and your death will be quick and swift." One finger remained as something dark danced inside him. "Or two, we fight, we get Ace back, and you will die the most drawn-out, most painful and most agonizing death that you deserve."

Harsh laughter rang through the room. A crazy light gleamed in the doctor's eyes. "Learning from me, are you, pirate?" he seemed to cackle. "Pain? _Pain?_ _I inflict_ pain." He laughed again, a high shrill that sent shivers up their spines. "I _cause_ pain. _I am pain_. And you wish to make me feel pain?" A thoughtful look crossed his features as he glanced at the body he was holding. "Perhaps you should take lessons from this one? He's very...associated with pain after all."

_He's insane._

Marco narrowed his eyes, even as Thatch called out curses at the brunette.

"Two options, Clockwork," he repeated. "Choose well."

Much to both Whitebeard pirate's ire, a slow smirk crept across the scarred man's features which, coupled with his the manic gleam in his verdant eyes, gave him an almost animalistic look. His hands shifted as he pulled Ace's limp figure closer to his chest. He breathed against the sweat the hugged the teen's neck. He glanced at two outraged pirates. "My choice?" he whispered almost merrily. He flicked out a tongue and ran it up Ace's cheek. "He tastes…awfully," he paused. "Gone."

Marco couldn't describe the sudden ill feeling that fell in his stomach, nor the rush of protectiveness that washed over him as he watched that sick bastard lick his brother's cheek like candy. Across from him, Thatch had, to no one's surprise, pulled against his bindings as he swore and cursed and shouted at the blonde to do something already.

"I see you've made your choice. You will die," Marco said quietly. "But not before you suffer our family's wrath."

There was a click behind him. The commander smirked. No one ever said pirates played fair.

* * *

_Just close your eyes  
The sun is going down_

* * *

Thatch watched in silent anger as Marco slowly approached the brunette-doctor – was it Clockwork, again? – the latter backing away with that twisted smile on his face. The pirate wanted to yell at the blonde to free him so he could join in with beating the bastard into hell and back, but understood almost sulkily that Marco would have to pull his eyes away from that brunette-doctor.

Something dark entered the first commander's eyes. Thatch couldn't help but shiver. That look never bore anything good for anyone at the receiving end.

"I see you've made your choice. You will die," Marco stated almost coolly, as if delivering news of the weather. His eyes never left Clockwork's. "But not before you suffer our family's wrath."

There was a click near the entrance and the chef caught sight of a shadow behind the blonde. He almost grinned. So they were here.

A loud bang ricocheted across the room as a sudden burst of blue flames engulfed the place where the blonde once stood. The flames leapt off the ground at the same moment a bullet slammed into the brunette-doctor, eliciting a surprised cry. Not a second later, Marco crashed into Clockwork. One of his arms pushed Ace away from the pirate hunter, and while one of his wings clipped the man in the face. The wing morphed into an arm and, with a cruel snarl, the commander struck the brunette's nose with his elbow.

"Marco!" Suddenly, Izo was in the doorway, a gun in hand. "Get Ace and move!" he snapped. He flicked a glance at Thatch.

The chef stilled. Both their gazes met, each remembering the last conversation they had together.

"_He's been quiet for days!"_

"_And that makes it alright?"_

"_No!"_

"_You should have followed him, you bastard!"_

"_That's not the point! We trusted him to come back!"_

Izo ran towards him. Within moments, Thatch was free. The fourth commander rubbed at his once-bounded wrists. He nodded at his brother. "Thanks," he muttered. The kimono-clad man only blinked at him as he turned to rush towards the Ace, who was lying dangerously close to the battle between Marco and Clockwork. He dragged the teen away quickly.

"Give him to me," Thatch said, hands out to take Ace.

Izo looked up at him in surprise. "I can take him." He still heaved the teen towards the chef anyway.

Thatch hooked one of his arms beneath the kids' knees, another carefully behind his back, hoping to hell he wasn't jostling the kid too much. For a moment, he was grateful Ace was out cold. In any ideal situation, he'd next wake up and pumped with anesthetics in the Moby Dick's infirmary. Ace's head lolled against his chest. Thatch tightened his hold.

He flicked a glance towards the snarling phoenix and laughing brunette-doctor. He internally cringed. No one should face Marco and still laugh about. He supposed there was something to say about the insane. "I'm going to take him home," he said to Izo.

Just as latter nodded, a huge explosion rocked the house. On instinct, Thatch curled his figure around Ace's prone form, clutching the teen as close to him as possible. What the hell? He could feel Izo ducking close to him. Several appliances crashed nearby - some into his back as he held Ace all the tighter – causing swirls of dust and debris to kick up in the air. Metal knives and scissors slid to a halt nearby.

"Marco!" Izo cried out.

The commanders looked up to see a phoenix bearing down on Clockwork. Marco's wings were bared, the tips tense and leaning towards the brunette. His eyes gleamed with fierce determination as he stood between them and the enemy. Yet, what caught the chef's attention was the greenish smoke emitting from the brunette-doctor. Quiet alarm flitted through him. A logia user. But what devil fruit was that?

As if to answer to his thoughts, the brunette-doctor smiled. "The Doku Doku no Mi. A neat devil fruit, I must say. I can literally turn to poison, I can melt, I can burn, and of course," – he glanced at Ace – "I can poison someone with the harshest of substances."

"Thatch," Marco spoke up. "Get Ace to the Moby Dick now."

Thatch looked taken aback. "No!"

"There's no time! Izo will be with me," the blonde snapped. "Move!"

The chef let out a huff but dashed for door. Ace dangled in his arms. A steam of green liquid splashed near his foot and he cursed, nearly tripping. A sharp trill and a crash behind him pushed him to go faster. He ran out the door. His feet thudded against the sterile floor, skidding past corridors and staircases. _Great. My brothers are fighting and I'm running. _He glanced at the kid in his arms worriedly. After what that stupid doctor had done, he wasn't sure how much further the kid could go. Blood spilled from his wrists and angles as crimson droplets marked the pathway they had come from.

Just as he exited the side-entrance he had snuck into earlier (and had been promptly caught by a knock to the head), Ace stirred, groaning. His eyes opened as he cast disoriented and, Thatch noted, increasingly panicked looks about him.

"Hey, hey," he soothed as he slowed down. Hesitant grey eyes rose to meet his. "You're okay now."

The teen struggled a little and the elder decided perhaps they needed to stop a while. Marco and Izo would stop that brunette-doctor, he had no doubt of. Still, Ace was their immediate goal. He couldn't have the kid panicking on them and then somehow making his injuries worse. At least, that was what he told himself as he watched the hopeless anxiety in the younger's eyes. He lowered both of them to the floor, resting the teen's lower body on the floor, though he kept his hands hooked beneath the pirate lest they needed a quick getaway.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

Heavy breathing answered him.

"Okay, maybe this was a bad idea. I'll just get you to the ship to get you all fixed up, okay?" Thatch went on when Ace just panted and leaned against him. That was…good, right? It showed the kid trusted him, right? At least, he hoped he did.

"N-no," Ace whispered. A hand rose to touch his chest. Thatch opted to remain silent when he saw his white top turn a deep red.

"You need a doctor, Ace," he argued back. "You're hurt and…you're really hurt."

Grey eyes rolled back in his head and the chef shook him a little roughly. "Hey. Hey!"

He watched as the younger fought to remain conscious. Something inside him screamed at him to go, but another part refused. The look the kid shot him seemed…urgent, somehow. Like he had something he desperately needed to say. Beyond anything. If Thatch was anything, he wasn't a softie, but hell did he melt like a puddle of chocolate when it came to family.

"I n-need to tell you…" Ace went on. "T-tell you..."

Suddenly, Thatch knew what Ace was going to say. "Not just me," he blurted. "Everyone came for you. Marco and Izo are kicking that bastard's ass, so don't you worry about anything, Ace."

Surprise flitted across the freckled teen's face. His lips formed a round 'O'. "Everyone?" he asked quietly.

The commander nodded. "Yeah, everyone."

A soft sigh exited the fire-user's swollen lips. Thatch watched in worry as Ace struggled to bring his head up, before finally seeming to give up as he rested his chin near the older's heart. Tired grey eyes peered at him beneath his fringe. "T-thank you," he breathed. A puff of air brushed against Thatch. "Thank you…for coming for..me. Even…" Ace suddenly tensed. His body heaved as he began to cough, red liquid spattering his jaw as well as the other pirate's already stained top. "Sorry," he muttered when he calmed.

"Okay, that's enough. We're going home," Thatch said firmly. He tightened his grip on the teen.

As he walked, Ace clutched at him as tightly as he could. The kid went on speaking and, just for a moment, he wished the kid would just shut up. He didn't want to hear this. It wasn't a fucking goodbye.

"Just hang on, Ace. You'll be fine," he muttered.

"Thank y-you. Even when…" Ace whispered against him. His voice was shallow and breathy. "Even when I didn't- deserve i-it." Quite suddenly, the freckled kid paled to sheet white as he tried to hitch in a breath. His bruises becoming that much more pronounced, he went completely lax, his grey eyes dipping back into his head.

Thatch started running. _Shit._

* * *

_You'll be alright  
No one can hurt you now_

* * *

Marco jabbed a flaming hand into the brunette's face. In the last second, Clockwork disappeared, his annoying laughter resounding across the walls as he appeared to his…left. He lunged. Green smoke splashed onto his face instead. _Damn it_. A gun shot rang behind him, followed by another and another as Izo backed him up.

_The guy can dodge, at least_.

Blue flames swept across his face, healing the aftermath of acrid poison that dripped onto his jacket. "You can't run forever, Clockwork," he called tauntingly. "We'll get you sooner or later."

A voice laughed into his ear. "Not if you can't hit me."

With a snarl, Marco swung to his right. His elbow caught the man in the shoulder. He twisted and ducked and, with one firm hold of the pirate hunter's knee, he yanked the man onto his back. Before Clockwork could knee him in the chest, he jabbed a sharp talon into the latter's thigh and trilled when he felt the bone crush beneath the force of his weight.

Pain and surprise crossed the brunette's features. "H-how did…?"

Marco smirked. "Haven't faced Haki yet, have you?"

Realisation dawned on Clockwork and he snarled. Feeling particularly nasty, he moved another sharp talon to the other uninjured leg and snapped it in half, relishing at the ensuing crack he heard. Footsteps moved beside him and then the mouth of a gun was aligned with Clockwork's shoulder. Izo pulled the trigger. He pulled the gun down a little and shot again. And again.

"That's more like it," Izo said flatly. "Bullets coated in sea stone. Best to be prepared," he offered as explanation to Marco's inquisitive stare.

"Right." Marco moved to look at the man beneath him. A fierce look entered his eyes. "I will not kill you yet, you piece of twisted scum," he growled. "Trust me when I say the Whitebeards keep to their word. You shall not leave this island alive, or even recognisable."

Clockwork's body shuddered as he laughed that hideous cackle. "Kill me, pirate, but know one thing. That boy you came for," – the pirates perked up at this – "He will not survive."

The blonde dug his talons into the man's knees again roughly. Clockwork gave out a pained groan. "What the hell do you mean?" Izo snarled beside him.

The gleam in Clockwork's eyes unsettled Marco. He frowned at the familiar glint of victory light up the stupid idiot's face.

"He's poisoned, you pathetic fools!"

* * *

_Come morning light  
You and I'll be safe and sound_

* * *

"Poisoned?" Izo repeated in horror.

Clockwork smirked. "You didn't think I'd give my little sweet a parting gift, did you?" A sinister look crossed his features. "He'd miss me if I didn't."

Izo felt the familiar rage pulse through him even as Marco smashed a fist into the moron's face. There was a loud crack. Good, he thought to himself. When his brother withdrew his hand, he saw a dark blue bruise already welting against the scarred skin. The nose looked broken.

"The cure?" Marco was demanding. He yanked Clockwork up by the scruff of his collar. "Where's the cure?" he snarled.

It was getting old, the laughter that penetrated the walls. If the man hadn't just tortured – and poisoned – a member of their family, Izo might have felt the slightest twinge of pity for the man. The trembles that shook the blonde's lean frame was the tell-tale sign of a near explosion. Clockwork was definitely not getting out of this alive.

"A deal, pirate," Clockwork grinned crookedly through his messed up face. "I give you the cure and you let me go. You will not come after me."

Izo scoffed. "How would we know you gave us the right cure? It might just be another sick poison of yours," he spat.

Marco held up his hand and the kimono-clad pirate quietened. "You do know we will hunt you if it turns out to be a lie."

Izo widened his eyes in disbelief. "Marco! You're not seriously considering-"

"Calm down, Izo!" the blonde snapped. His voice turned authoritative. "I will handle this."

The other commander scowled. Marco took his silence as acceptance.

"Well?" the phoenix demanded when no reply was forthcoming from the brunette. "Do we have a deal or not?"

With a petulant frown, the pirate hunter pointed a finger towards a cupboard at the corner of the room. Izo was at the cupboard in an instant. He rummaged through all the contents. He looked back at them with a raised eyebrow. "They are all the same," he stated.

"All of them are the cure."

Izo looked sceptical. What kind of stupid was this? "All of them?" he repeated in disbelief.

Clockwork actually snorted. "I only have one kind of poison that I can create from my own self. Of course it only needs one cure. Other poisons are typical substances any idiot can create, and I am no idiot."

One glance from Marco and Izo was storing all the 'medicine' bottles into his heavy garment.

* * *

_I remember tears streaming down your face when I said I'll never let you go  
When all those shadows almost killed your light  
I remember you said, "Don't leave me here alone."  
But all that's dead and gone and past tonight_

* * *

Thatch ran through the forest, pushing pass his waiting brothers as he burst onto the shore. "Move!" he shouted. He flicked a glance at the waiting mini-boat they had waiting by the shoreline. Damn it. They still had to get to the ship. The Moby Dick was way too large to be fully anchored by the shore; the waters were too shallow.

"Namur!" he bellowed. The fishman jerked to look at him, already tense with anticipation. Thatch inwardly sighed. He might be hated for this forever but family came first. "Pull the boat! We need to get to the ship _now_!

An unreadable look crossed the fishman's features but he jumped into the water, taking the boat's anchor in his mouth. He began propelling them to the ship the moment Thatch had leapt on to the boat.

Wind whipped through the sails as Namur pushed them forward.

_Come on, come on. _Thatch began to absent-mindedly stroke the fire-user's hair. "We'll make it," he whispered. "We always do."

* * *

_Just close your eyes_

* * *

A rush of pure animalistic triumph pulsed through the first commander as he moved his blue, blue eyes to stare at the moron who provoked his entire family. "Now," he said, almost thoughtful. Satisfaction rolled through him when Clockwork tensed. "What shall we do with you?"

The doctor almost spluttered. "We had a deal," he said. "I give you the cure, and you let me go."

Marco only smiled, though the look in his eyes remained dark. "No. There is no deal."

"I thought Whitebeards keep to their word! Or were you lying then too, pirate?" Clockwork fought back.

The blonde shrugged. "I asked if we had a deal, Clockwork. You never agreed to it." He smirked. "You just showed us where the cure was." The shuffling behind him stopped and Marco inclined his head towards his brother. "Do you have all of them?"

Izo nodded.

"Good." Although he desperately wanted to stay, Marco knew getting back to Ace was more important. Revenge would come later. "Time to go."

Clockwork began to struggle beneath him but he only sat further back on his feet, provoking another cry of pain. "_You piece of filth!_ _Tricking me like that! You have no honour!_"

Izo snorted. "What can we say? We are pirates, you know."

Marco stood up, knowing the sea stone bullets inside the man wouldn't allow him to use his devil fruit powers anytime soon. "Give me the bottles. I can reach home faster and get the nurses to check the authenticity of these substances." Izo passed him the loot and the first commander quickly headed to the door. "In the meantime," – he glanced at the brunette as if he was dirt – "Do what you will with him. Just keep him alive until I give the OK."

Izo smiled slyly, glee already lighting up his features. "Roger that, commander."

Marco left the room just in time to hear his brother say: "Now, where are those beautiful daggers I saw?"

* * *

_Come morning light_

* * *

Marco swooped down onto the railing of the Moby Dick, immediately transforming into his human form as he leapt towards the infirmary. If Thatch wasn't there yet…he'd make _him _a patient for a fucking month.

His feet pounded down the hallway. The bottles tinkled against each other. He rounded a corner, his heart pounding loudly. It was strange how someone he had only just met a few months ago could invoke such an intense feeling in him. Tension locked onto him. Anxiety rolled through him like waves. They would get through this.

Ace would be okay. Worse for the wear but, most importantly, _alive_. All of them would celebrate (if Ace permitted it, of course; the kid could still hate them for all he knew) and they would sail on. Marco couldn't help but recall the heated conversation he had with the kid a few weeks back, just a day after he had made the deal for the kid to be nice to the family, before Thatch had dropped in on them.

"_You don't get it, Marco. When this is over, I'm going to go right back to treating you all like crap. Don't you think that's worse than leading your stupid family on?"_

_A dark look crossed the elder's features at the word 'stupid'. He sighed. "That's part of the deal. You said you owe us. This is what you have to do to pay us back."_

_Ace turned, walked a few paces before rounding on him. "Yes! But who are you to decide how I pay it back? This is how I can repay you, but what about the rest?"_

"_I'm the first division commander. I can speak for the rest."_

_Ace sneered. "Oh, even over your precious 'Oyaji'?"_

"_That's enough," Marco snapped. "I speak for him, but of course he holds the greatest authority over us all. As all fathers do over their children." He paused at the fierce glare he received. "Just do it, will you?" he said tiredly._

_The younger pirate only looked away. "It's all a lie. You're asking me to lie to the crew."_

"_What about it? It's not like you to worry about something like that."_

"_I'm not worried!" Ace said sharply. "I know what you're trying to do. Trying to get me to lower my guard. Making me talk to everyone, so I'll accept them as my family. It's not going to work!"_

_Marco finally lost it. "And why not?" he demanded. "How would you know?"_

"_Do you think I'm stupid enough to believe all of you would want me here? Just because I 'caught your interest' through the bloody newspapers?!" Anger crossed the younger's features. "In the end, you wouldn't want me in your crew anyway!"_

He barged into the infirmary. Relief clouded part of his mind when he saw Thatch and Ace at the corner of the room. Thatch was being shooed away, while doctors were already rushing around Ace. He shoved the medicine bottles into one of the nurses' hands.

"We were told he's poisoned. Check if this is the cure," he said without prompt, after which he was immediately kicked out of the room.

He sighed. Now he only had to wait.

* * *

_The war outside our door keeps raging on_

* * *

Inside the infirmary, one of the nurses injected a reddish, bordering on blue, liquid into the fire-user.

* * *

_"The great gift of family life is to be intimately acquainted with people you might never even introduce yourself to, had life not done it for you."  
-Kendall Hailey_

* * *

**That's it. You like?**

**Do review if you're excited for the next chapter!**

**P.S. I'm sorry for the...another cliffhanger? :(**


	10. White Walls

**Hey all!**

**First and foremost, my deepest apologies for taking this long to update this story. Many of you have left in your reviews, and others through PMs, inquiries as to whether I intend to continue both this story and "Bleeding through the Seams". I'd like to take this opportunity to tell all of my readers - you - that, yes, I do intend to do so.**

**I have lately been swamped with school work and with the upcoming examination, I had little time to focus on my stories. I manage to get this chapter done, and am currently working on the next chapter for "Bleeding through the Seams", so do look out for them.**

**However, it has been a while since I had last written. I do hope it still is up to your expectations (am I writing too formally here? Goodness, a habit from school) and that I have not lost too many readers during my time away. I cannot promise when the next chapter will be up, but do wait patiently for me to tide through this busy time to get my priorities in good order.**

**To deliver to you this chapter swiftly, I'm afraid I would be unable to respond to your wonderful reviews at the moment. But, thank you for your kind words, for the favourites and the follows. It makes me truly happy, and urges me to return to writing as soon as I can. In fact, I'd probably be deep in my studies right now if not for the sudden influx of reviews, which reminded me of my dedication to writing and my stories.**

**Do enjoy the chapter. :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or any of its characters.**

* * *

_Wake me up (Wake me up inside)  
I can't wake up (Wake me up inside)  
Save me (Call my name and save me from the dark)  
- Bring Me to Life _by _Evanescence_

* * *

"_Gol D. Roger?"_

_There was a long, drawn-out silence before someone finally broke into hysterical laughter. This set another into a string of guffaws, and it took little to no time before the entire bar was filled with raucous laughter and rough hands slapping the top of wooden tables._

_The raven-haired child flinched._

"_What's a kid like you asking after some vermin like him?" some half-drunk man asked, his words slurring slightly. Leery black eyes peered at Ace as the man leaned forward in his chair, bringing his face nearer to the child._

_Ace only shook his head. He tried his hardest to hide the tremble in his lips, or the strange prick behind his eyes. "I heard about him," he muttered under his breath. "I was curious."_

_There was silence again before the same men started snickering. Hatred bubbled up inside the young D. carrier at this. Who were they to laugh at him? They couldn't know whose blood he was carrying. Yet, they taunted him with their uncouth sneers and foul breaths for simply mentioning a man who had long since died?_

_A thumb touched his chin then and jerked his head up to stare wide-eyed into a pair of black, black eyes. "Listen here, kid," he said in between giggles and smirks. "Gol D. Roger was the cruellest of pirates. He slaughtered everyone that came in his way. Everyone!" At this, he emphasised the word with a wild swinging of his free arm. He seemed to delight in the increasingly sick look on Ace's features. "He was the pit of the darkest evil, and never let anyone get away with insulting him or his crew. So the Marines came in and," – he mimicked slicing a finger across his throat – "killed him. Took him to top of an execution platform in Loguetown and stabbed him through twice."_

_Ace jerked away from the man, lips curled in disgust. "I know that!" he blurted angrily. "Everyone knows that!"_

_The man snorted. "Then why are you asking after him if you already know? Wasting my time."_

"_Yeah." The other men grunted in agreement as they turned back to their drinks._

"_Then again," someone at the back spoke up. "If Gol D. Roger had a son…" Dark eyes slid to watch Ace carefully. "I'd say he be about your age, kid. When did that accursed pirate get executed again, Naru?"_

_Ice began to coat Ace's veins as he took a step back. They couldn't know…could they? They were only guessing, right?_

_The men turned back to him again._

"_About seven years ago, I'd say."_

_There was a pause. "He looks seven. About that age." The same man, Naru, leaned forward again, his gaze dirty and scrutinising. "A kid, inquiring over a dead man. How strange and…How old are you, kid?"_

_Ace took another shaky step back. "I-I'm five," he stuttered, the dread swirling something ugly in his chest. No! He should have lied. Said he was way younger or something to push them off his tracks. What was he doing?!_

_The scrutinising look turned calculating. "Five," he repeated slowly. A hand reached out to pet Ace's cheek, the rough texture scrubbing against his soft cheeks. "You lying, kid? You don't look five."_

_For that one moment, Ace felt something in him completely freeze. The world seemed to stop around him and that filthy touch and that leering gaze as the man – Naru – grinned dirtily at him. His heart pounded in his chest._

"_I-I'm-"_

_Suddenly, the man broke into loud laughter again, the others following suit._

"_Stop teasing the kid, Naru!" someone hollered from the back, hands slapping against the wooden counter as tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes. "The kid looks about ready to burst into tears!"_

_True to his words, huge droplets of water filmed Ace's dark grey eyes. _

"'_Sides, if Gol D. Roger really had a son, he'd be killed before he could even say 'Daddy' anyway!"_

_His lips trembled._

"_Yeah!" some idiot snickered. "Like some brat with that cursed blood could be allowed to run wild. We'd all be doomed if he's allowed to live."_

_Eyes wide, the young child of five turned tail and sprinted from the bar as fast as his little legs could carry him._

* * *

_Without a soul, my spirit sleeping somewhere cold  
Until you find it there and lead it back home_

* * *

Marco watched in silent amusement as the door to the infirmary opened again seconds after he was kicked out, the nurses sending an unhappy Thatch straight into his arms, before the door slammed shut. He gently pushed his brother off of him as the latter grumbled under his breath about 'inconsiderate nurses' and 'doctors who couldn't care less'.

"Done whining, Thatch?" Marco said after a moment when the fourth commander remained staring at the infirmary door, still spewing insults.

Thatch turned in surprise. "Marco!" he said sheepishly. "Hey."

"Hey," Marco returned. "Stand still." He raked his gaze through his brother's suddenly still form, carefully watching for any injuries that that bastard back at the island might have inflicted on the pirate. After what had happened to Ace… There was no way in hell was he allowing anyone else in the family to suffer a second more than necessary at the madman's hands.

When he began on his third check, Thatch finally interjected, "I'm fine, Marco."

Marco looked up from his appraisal at the chef's solemn tone. He frowned when the latter smiled softly at him, a stark contrast to the usually playful look that the commander would often sport. "Thatch…"

Thatch clapped him on the shoulders. "It's fine, Marco. Everything is okay now." He glanced in the direction of the infirmary. "Ace is with us. And…and where's Izo?"

The phoenix inwardly snorted at the question. And there his idiot brother was, trying to soothe him the only way he knew how, when he didn't even know the complete facts. "We took down Clockwork. Izo should be having a very fine session with him. But," – he tried to suppress a frown – "I should go check if the rest already went in to the base." He had told them they were free to enter the moment they got Ace out. With Ace out of the way, they didn't have to worry about making too much of a mess of things. Now that he thought of it, Jozu really did love those sneaky devices that had the tendency to give off little explosions. That had been the culprit of the destruction of several marine bases.

Thatch grinned, an excited gleam in his eyes. "Can I join them?"

"Nope."

"Why not?" Thatch demanded.

"Someone has to stay with Ace. In case he wakes up, I think he'd rather see one of us instead of any of our other brothers whom he's not familiar with." Marco glanced at him. "Put him at ease." When Thatch opened his mouth, the blonde held up a hand. "I have to report to Oyaji. I don't know when I can come to see him again."

"I got it," the fourth commander said in mock salute, but the expression fell a moment later. He sighed. "I doubt I'd be much use anyway. Ace probably wouldn't be awake yet even if you drop by in a few days."

Swift as lightning, Marco had his hands on his brother's shoulders tightly, a worried frown carving harsh lines on his forehead. "He's fine, right?" he urged quietly. "How was he?" Concern twisted in his gut at the redhead's solemn look. He had assumed…when he had seen the nurses and doctors fussing over the younger fire-user, he had thought everything would be fine, lulled into the welcoming and _safe_ illusion that all was alright because Ace was _back home_. With them. The blonde hadn't thought to ask after the youngest member.

"Snap out of it, Marco. I only meant Ace would likely be under sedation until the worst of his wounds heal." Thatch glanced at the room he was kicked out of. "I wouldn't want him to go through any more pain than he has to." His dark eyes fell to the floor. "He's been through enough."

_Yes, he has, hasn't he? _The concern fell away to hints of self-loathing and guilt. Marco let go of his brother, already walking away. "Update me of any changes, Thatch," he ordered, barely looking back for an acknowledgement. Thatch would do fine. He didn't need him to hover at the side, worrying over every small thing. The Whitebeards needed their first commander. And the first commander was swift, ruthless and cold.

He made his way to the deck, where his father was waiting for his report. Whether they would bring that vile scum on board (though he would really rather bring his corpse over) or just teach the bastard a pirate lesson he would never forget (it would be the last lesson he'd ever have), Oyaji had the final say. True, the thought of tearing apart that psycho on board their very home had its own appeal, but…somehow, he didn't think Ace would appreciate it.

He ran a hand through his hair as he let out a faint huff. His knuckles cracked. It was going to be a busy day.

* * *

_Wake me up (Bid my blood to run)  
I can't wake up (Before I come undone)  
Save me (Save me from the nothing I've become)_

* * *

_Ace clambered up the huge boulder – or, at least, it was huge to him – his slim fingers grasping at rough edges as he pushed himself to get to the top. Ever aware of the careful gaze on his back, he smiled brightly when he finally reached the top. A huge hand touched his messy mane of black hair, almost causing him to flinch, as the same hand ruffled his dark tresses almost affectionately._

"_Sit down, Ace," his grandfather commanded with his gruff voice. The old man settled beside the boulder, his hand within easy reach of the boy should the latter fall off. Much to the younger's disappointment, the marine's head was still a little ways higher than his own despite being perched on the stone._

_A brief silence fell over them then. It was normal, by Ace's standards. His grandfather would pop in every few months, or weeks (the man seemed suddenly insistent on visiting him often) and would take the boy out for long walks in the forest after their routine 'training', as dubbed by Garp, where they would finally settle on a hilltop overlooking the vast sea._

_Ace could never understand it, but his grandfather seemed to shine with pride when Ace had said he'd like to go out to sea someday. The seas were beautiful and huge, after all. Who wouldn't want a taste of that while they lived?_

"_Grandpa," the younger finally said._

"_Hmmm?"_

_The grey-eyed child peered at the marine from between his bangs. His gaze immediately fell when Garp turned to look at him curiously._

"_What is it, Ace?" Garp asked sternly. "Never be afraid to ask questions. Especially after you've already made clear you have one."_

_Ace ducked his head in chagrin. His grandfather never missed a chance to reprimand him for the slightest mistakes. From Garp, the mistakes felt huge. "I was just wondering…" he began after a moment of tense silence. He gritted his teeth as he jerked his head up to stare the older straight in his eyes. "What does family mean, Grandpa?"_

_Surprise flitted through the marine's features, but he shook it away just as quickly as it came. He turned his head back to watch the waves riding on the sea. "What do you know about family, Ace?"_

"_They told me family are those people who you share the same blood with," the boy mumbled._

_Something that Ace would later recognise as dangerous entered Garp's voice. "They?"_

"_People at the bar," Ace clarified._

_His grandfather grunted. "And what do _you_ think of family?"_

_Ace started in surprise. What did _he _think? Confusion welled inside him. "I guess…the same as they said?"_

_There was another long silence when his grandfather opted to remain quiet, and the younger finally took it that the old man wouldn't reply. He was just about to drift off to sleep – or another of his narcoleptic attacks – when the next words he heard jolted him into surprise and…sadness._

"_What they said was true, Ace. Family are people whom you share the same blood with. That's where mothers and fathers come into play. Brothers and sisters, cousins, uncles and aunts, nieces and nephews. It's about the bloodline."_

_The raven-haired child's lips began to involuntarily turn downward as he turned ashen grey eyes to gaze almost mournfully at his crossed feet. His hands trembled on his lap, his dark tresses waving madly in the air. "Then," he mumbled, "does that mean you're not my grandfather?" Hurt layered his words like the sea on a sandy beach._

_Much to his surprise, the older man laughed heartily at that, bringing his hand down to pat his shoulders roughly even as the hurt amplified into anger and embarrassment._

"_Why are you laughing?!" he demanded furiously._

_Garp squinted at him before breaking into another round of harsh laughter. Letting out a few wheezes, he finally calmed enough to grin at his grandson. "Don't be silly, Ace. Of course I'm your grandfather."_

"_But you just said-"_

_The older man waved him away. "That's just the same old line from the darn dictionary. Doesn't make it wrong, but," – at this, his face turned serious – "Family, Ace, does not mean they have to be blood-related to you." Grey eyes widened. "Family are people who will stick by your side whether you like it or not, not because they have to, but because they want to. They will go to the ends of the Earth for you. They will protect you."_

_The deepest stirrings of longing pulled at Ace's chest. Garp wasn't finished._

"_Most importantly, family will always be there for you."_

* * *

_Save me from the nothing I've become_

* * *

"The doctors are still working on him." Marco blinked slowly at the frown that weaved its way onto his adopted father's features. "It was bad, Oyaji. I think we were lucky enough to have gotten to him in time."

There was a slight quirk at the corners of Whitebeard's lips. "I suppose we'd have to thank your brother for that," he said in amusement.

Marco's eyebrow twitched. How could he have forgotten? That Thatch had wandered off on his own to find Ace and had then been promptly caught by the enemy. Yet, he had been smart enough to leave behind enough of his tracks for his family to find him. If it hadn't been for that idiot brother of his…they wouldn't have found Ace as quickly. Though he'd have to ask how in the world the redhead had managed to find Ace in the first place.

Then again, finding things had always been his forte.

"I suppose," he finally said reluctantly when his father continued staring at him.

"Of course," Whitebeard went on. "That doesn't exempt him from punishment. I do not condone rash behaviour among my sons." A hint of seriousness entered the Captain's eyes.

"I will be sure to punish him as due his crime, Oyaji," Marco promised, inwardly smirking. Thatch had caused too much commotion to get away with it entirely. Perhaps a month of scrubbing duties? Then, returning to the matter at hand, he continued, "Izo, and the others by now, are with Clockwork at his base. Izo and I had him taken down before I left." He paused. "Your orders?"

The age-old Captain raised his chin to peer at his son as a dark glint gleamed in his eyes. "Bring him to me, Marco," he ordered, his voice a deep thunder against the radiant sky. "Bring him to the family and have him watch what happens to mice who try to trample on my children."

A cruel smile curled Marco's lips. "It will be my pleasure, Oyaji."

* * *

_Bring me to life  
I've been living in lies  
There's nothing inside_

* * *

Thatch gave out a sigh as he settled more comfortably into the hard, wooden chairs beside the bed Ace was on. To be frank, the kid looked horrible. Harsh lines carved into his skin, raggedy lines that were sharp against the paleness of his skin. Dark, bluish black spots marred the teen's flesh in random spots. Some pulled the strong outline of a handprint.

His hair was a damp blackness that framed his sharp features, his eyes closed to the world, hiding those silver grey eyes that the pirate sort of really liked. His brothers often were on the rough side, but Ace was… Ace was attractive, and lean. He was muscularly built, yet still on the slender side. He wasn't the sort anyone would expect a pirate would look like.

Not that Thatch was one to judge another based on their looks, but it certainly made it much easier to talk to the often hostile teen. It also made it a little too easy for his family, or himself only perhaps, to slip into the overprotective role of a big brother.

The doctors had wrapped the fire-user's wrists and ankles in thick bandages. Add on to that were the ones wrapped tightly around the teen's torso, as well as his forehead. Apparently, Ace had suffered too many and too strong hits to his head. A ripple of anger stirred in Thatch's gut then. How low could one go to torture a teenager? From a pirate-hunter, no less.

From the doctor's verdict, Ace wouldn't be getting up any time soon. Just as he had thought, they had injected enough sedatives in the younger to ensure he'd be out at least a week.

"No point in having him get up, panic and then getting worse. Might as well let him sleep through the worst of it," the doctor had said.

Yet, what worried them were the substances Ace had been injected with.

Hallucinations. Heightened sense of sensitivity and, in turn, pain. Ace had only been taken for no more than two days. Thatch supposed he should be grateful the kid had been returned to them as he was.

_"If I still refuse…would you still have saved me, Thatch? I'm not your brother. I never will be."_

Thatch watched the teen breathe softly.

"_Would I still be worth it?"_

"That's right, little brother," he whispered as he leaned forward, warm fingers carding through the teen's hair gently. "Sleep through it all. You're safe now."

_When you wake, whether or not you are willing to be one of us, you'd still be my little brother. The one we never had._

* * *

_How can you see into my eyes like open doors?  
Leading you down into my core, where I've become so numb?_

* * *

Izo wandered through the operating room, randomly picking up pieces of metal from the strewn tables or empty goblets that ringed those particularly nasty round tables. Not that he took a step back, the room was incredibly small for a man such as Clockwork. It wouldn't even fit four of his brothers on a good day.

He eyed the tip of an intricately crafted dagger. The jagged edge gleamed under the flickering light, a sharp promise of intoxicating danger and thrill. "You do have the most beautiful knives," he murmured to the man on the operating table. He ran a hand over the sides of the weapon. "Such detail." His dark eyes slid to look at his captive. "You don't do it justice."

Clockwork heaved and bucked from his bound state. "A pirate has no business talking about _justice_," he spat. "Even an animal would be the better candidate than scum like you."

Amusement twinkled in Izo's eyes. "Really?" He clapped a hand to his cheek. "Then I'm sure you won't find it offensive if my family plays with you a little. We do love a good game."

As the psycho let out a string of inane babble – at least, that was what it was to the kimono-clad pirate – Izo tucked the dagger into one of his hidden pockets. It had already been a few hours and, though it pained him, he had ordered his family to wait outside. This man was to suffer. Perhaps the pirate was selfish in his actions but he wished to have Clockwork all to himself before he handed him over to his family's ever-eager hands. It was only too easy to remember the completely limp form of his brother in his arms earlier, too easy to recall that damp coldness of Ace's skin even through the thick layer of his kimono.

He may be a pirate, an immoral one, but Izo was a Whitebeard pirate. No one underestimated the lengths they would go to to save one of their own, or the strength of their vengeance should they fail.

A cruel smile played on his lips as he began to doodle on Clockwork's torso. A stream of red liquid began to drip from the sliced wounds, some marking the man as deeply as he had Ace.

"I'm going to make you pretty, my hunter," Izo promised. "I'm going to make the world look at you, and only you." He patted the man's cheek gently. "They will never forget your name."

The man chuckled to himself. "It will not save your precious Ace," he rasped. Forest green eyes met Izo's own dark ones, holding the pirate still. "If I cannot save them, I will ensure they pass on without the dirt of pirates marring their souls."

Izo narrowed his eyes in slits. "You really are mad, aren't you?" Less than a second later had him pointing the tip of his gun at the man's thigh. He pulled the trigger. "It is unfortunate for you, Clockwork." Another shot. "Our doctors are the best anyone could ask for. If you did poison him, we will throw you into a _hell_ you could never imagine. If you lied," – he shrugged casually, a dark gleam in his eyes – "well, there's still the whole 'hurting our brother' issue we have yet to address."

The pirate then took a step back examine his handiwork. The little bastard was breathing heavily, beads of sweat dripping down his skin, drenching the ridiculous coat he had on. Bloodstains marked his flesh in random intervals. Most of them leaked from circular wounds courtesy of his favourite gun. _Yes. My favourite gun_. The man does make the fine captive. It awakened a sort of vengeful lust in Izo; the desire to instil unparalleled fear into those overly bright green eyes, the need to make the man scream and beg for mercy that he did not have.

"Izo."

"Hmmm?" Izo turned to the open door to see Jozu looking at him carefully. "What is it?"

Jozu glanced at their captive as he stepped into the room. "Marco has relayed Oyaji's orders. We are to bring _that_ to the ship."

The kimono-clad pirate raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Oyaji wants him back home with us?"

The other pirate rolled his eyes. "Don't say it like he's one of us," he muttered in irritation.

Izo let out a huff. "Fine."

He made his way to the bound hunter, satisfied when the latter tensed at his approach. "Don't you worry, you sick little man. I hope you're up for a fine show." He pointed an elegant finger at Clockwork. "Featuring you, of course."

* * *

_Without a thought, without a voice, without a soul  
Don't let me die here  
There must be something more  
Bring me to life_

* * *

Marco stepped into the infirmary. "How is he?"

Thatch leaned back in his chair almost languidly, pulling back from leaning over Ace when he saw his blonde brother. "Thought you'd take ages to come back. It's only been a few hours."

The first commander shrugged. "I had Jozu to relay Oyaji's orders." He perched himself on the edge of Ace's bed, his cerulean eyes taking in the form of the unconscious pirate. The now familiar feelings of inadequacy stirred inside him and he clenched his fists. "The others will bring Clockwork to the Moby Dick." At the mention of Clockwork's name, Marco noted with some surprise that the younger fire-user twitched.

Before he could dwell on it further, Thatch let out an unhappy sigh. "I don't really want that bastard stepping foot on our ship," he muttered sullenly as he crossed his arms.

"It can't be helped. Oyaji's words are law here."

Thatch seemed to pout. "Yeah." There was a momentary pause before he went on, his fingers returning to card their way through the teen's hair. "Doctors say he should be out for at least a week."

Marco watched as his brother affectionately gave their youngest his attention. "Sedatives?" he asked.

The fourth commander nodded.

Yet, a tinge of worry still ailed the blonde commander.

"_He's poisoned, you pathetic fools!"_

"Clockwork," – again, Marco noticed another twitch from Ace – "claimed to have poisoned him." He glanced at the now empty antidote bottles on the side table. "I asked the nurses to check if he really was poisoned, and if those were the cure."

Thatch paused in his ministrations to stare at his brother with something akin to anxiety and thin anger. "Damn. I didn't know that. But I guess, since they've-"

Just then, a loud _beep_ interrupted their musings, followed by a series of increasingly loud _beep_s as the line on one of the nearby machines started to rise and fall in irregular, unpredictable lines. A red light beside Ace's bed started to blink. Marco then saw with growing horror the sheen of sweat that glimmered on the unconscious pirate's skin. The teen's breathing sped up.

"Damn," Thatch muttered as he stepped away. "Damn it! Mar-"

"Get the doctor. _Get the doctor now!_" Marco demanded as Ace started to spasm. His arms jerked beside him, a gasp escaping his slightly parted lips. In that moment, the phoenix somehow wondered how someone unconscious could possibly clench their eyes shut. For that was what the still-too-young pirate was doing.

The door to the infirmary slammed open, pirates in their white coats rushing in towards them. "Move out of the way!" one of the doctors instructed, already shoving Marco to the side.

Marco ran a shaky hand through his hair even as the two commanders were thrown out for the second time that day.

Thatch voiced the blonde's thoughts, "Shit."

* * *

_Not that I know what I'm without  
You can't just leave me  
Breathe into me and make me real  
Bring me to life_

* * *

At that moment, Izo and the rest of rescue party walked up the steps to the Moby Dick, their backs straight and proud. Their mark of their father stood out as they brought forth the man Whitebeard had demanded to see.

With one push, Izo had Clockwork sprawled on his knees before his father. "Enjoy the show," he whispered in the man's ears even as he pulled away. "You're the star for the day."

The family watched as Whitebeard grunted in his seat, his bisento in hand. A sharp gaze as cold as the raging storms pierced the man before his feet.

"Welcome," he began, though his tone was far from pleasant. It was instead steeled with icy calmness. "To my humble abode."

* * *

**Do leave a review if you're excited for the next chapter!**


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